All The Pretty Lights
by jaxington
Summary: For artsy Alice the move to small town Texas was the worst kind of hell. She found nothing about the football obsessed town folk to be remotely interesting... until the golden boy quaterback himself gets hurt. UTL companion. All Human.
1. Damned in Dillon

**So this was originally supposed to be an outtake for _Under These Lights _from Alice's point of view. Things obviously got way out of hand. I've gotten a lot of positive response about my Alice from UTL, so I figure a few people will be interested in her story.**

**Still, I've written this so it can be a stand alone story for the Jasper and Alice fans out there. **

**I have this mostly finished. It's around 20 short (for me anyway) chapters. Hopefully I'll be able to post everyday. I'm going to be out of the country from most of the summer with no internet access (probably) so I'm getting it up as quickly as possible. That means no beta, folks. Sorry for the mistakes. **

**I don't own Twilight or Friday Night Lights.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

I've always been a person in transit.

It's my mother's doing, with her wandering ways and short attention span. She was just passing through Texas when she met my dad, all those years ago. Their romance burned bright but fast, and Mary Jane was back on the road before she even knew that I was cooking in her belly.

Growing up, I always like our lifestyle, never questioned it. Moving around so much, we saw a lot of beauty. Things were always fast and new and exciting. It made me good at observing but never interacting. I had to keep a distance from people because they were never permanent. The only constants were my mom, Mary Jane, and the yearly trips I did with my dad, Coach Carlisle Masen. I loved those trips because I got to pick where we went. And I never ever picked Texas.

Until, now. Technically, this moved to Dillon, Texas was my choice. Technically, I picked this.

Still, with my mom all in love – really in love – for the first time, and me with only one more year of the unbearable cruelty that is high school, moving in with Coach was just the thing to do. M.J. found herself a pro baseball player, and I couldn't make her choose between staying with me or going on the road with him.

Now that I'm here, I can't help moping a little.

Texas. Fucking _Texas. _Where the people are conservative, ignorant hicks who stare at me like I'm from a different goddamn galaxy. Where everything is sweltering and gross. Where people have big hair and think Jesus had blue eyes. Who ask me about football and then get real offended when it becomes clear I don't give a fuck.

Coach worries a lot in the first few weeks after I move in with him.

"Kids ain't supposed to spend so much time alone," he tells me as I cook us dinner. "I don't know if you get this but your old man has an in with the Dillon youth as head of our very own Dillon Panther football team. I could make some introductions, get someone to show you that ropes."

I bite tongue, deciding not to tell him I don't give a fuck about the ropes. I'm used to being alone. It is much preferable to spending any time with these crazy assholes. I don't want to talk about shooting things, football, or the glory of Texas. Being alone is for the best.

And it's not really alone. I'm with Coach.

"It's fine, Pop," I reply instead, jumping up to kiss his cheek. "Don't worry about me."

"You ain't lonely?" he asks, still worrying.

"No," I assure him. "This year I just want to focus on my art. I need to solidify my portfolio and all that if I have any chance of getting into a good school. No time for friends."

He stares at me for a long moment. I wonder if he can tell how much I hate it here, how much I hate the people here and the way they whisper behind my back. Coach likes it here, belongs here, and I sure don't want to hurt his feelings.

"Okay, Ali," he says. "Whatever you say. I just don't want you regrettin' movin' here with me or anything like that."

"How could I regret spending a whole year with my Pop?" He grins. I really do love my dad, even if he wasn't physically there every day of my misspent youth.

Coach progresses to complain about the lack of meat in the meal I've prepared, and I'm glad he's decided to leave me alone about being alone.

* * *

"So I met your little star throwing guy today, I think," I tell Coach as summer dwindles and the first day of school approaches. He gets home from work to find me sitting on the back deck with a cold beer and a cigarette.

"Throwing guy?" he asks, confiscating the beer and scowling at the smoke. "You can do better than that."

I just shrug my shoulders and go back to my cigarette.

"And you're too young to be smokin'," he mutters.

"Eighteen," I remind him.

"And what have I told you? Hands off the beer because you sure as hell ain't legally allowed to be doin' that," he continues, sitting down next to me. "While we're makin' rules, shouldn't you wear a little more in the way of clothing? That ain't lady like."

I grin at him, not even bothering to defend myself on all three counts. "Wow, Pops," I say. "That may have been more parenting from you in twenty seconds than I ever got from the seventeen or so years with M.J."

Coach sighs. "The discipline thing with you is kinda a lost cause, ain't it?"

"I won't drink your beer," I promise him.

"Damn right you won't."

Coach is seriously the one redeemable thing about this town. Living with him has been such a change for me from the chaotic life I shared with my mom, but I don't mind.

Sometimes it's peaceful here. When no one is around and the sun is going down it feels peaceful. It's almost beautiful. I try to focus on this.

"Throwin' guy?" he snaps suddenly, shakin' his head in disgust as he sips on the beer that was mine only a minute ago. "And you call yourself my daughter."

"Fine. Quarterback. I admit that I know that much about football," I say.

"So you met Jasper? Great kid. Been working with him since pee wee," Coach says. I get this weird, irrational flash of jealously. This cheesy cowboy has probably spent more time with my dad than I have. It's nobodies fault, but I still don't like it.

"I don't like him," I reply.

"You don't like him?" Coach repeats in disbelief.

"He called me little lady," I shout, totally offended again at the memory. "I was at the diner, you know how much I love breakfast."

"More than is natural or healthy, that's for sure," Coach replies, shaking his head. We will never agree about food. With my vegetarianism and hate of football, it's a little amazing that he hasn't disowned me at this point.

"So I was sketching because there is this really fat woman that seems to run the place? And she's all mean and yells at everybody but somehow customers seem to like it?"

"Yeah, Big Bertha. She's a Dillon institution."

Fuck, this town is weird.

"Right. So I was trying to sketch her but I was having a hard time getting her chin rolls just right," I continue. Coach shakes his head and sips his beer. "I'm drawing and minding my own business when this tall as fuck Texan is talking at me."

"Alice…" Coach reprimands, not liking my language.

"Seriously, Coach," I continue. "It was bordering rude. I had to take my headphones off and stop drawing to listen to him. By the time he finally left with his silent lover Bertha was gone and I'll never get back the moment when her chins looked like they did."

"Silent lover? You mean Bella? I though the Swan's were out of town."

Ah yes, the Swans. I've heard a lot about them. The towns wealthiest and most talked about family. Apparently the dad's an adulterer and the mom's a gold-digger and their daughter is a cheerleader.

The cheerleader and the quarterback. Nothing cliché about that at all.

"No, the lover was a dude. He just loitered behind your throwing guy and wouldn't stop grinning at me," I explain.

"Oh, that's gotta be Cullen. Don't you be gettin' involved with my fullback, Alice. That boy don't know how to stay outta trouble."

I roll my eyes but secretly I like little moments when he acts all father-like. There weren't enough of them growing up.

"So what did Jazz want?"

"To introduce himself or some shit," I reply, finally finishing my cigarette.

"Alice…"

"He seemed all shocked and offended when I didn't know who he was. What, is he some sort of local celebrity? This town is messed up," I say.

"I sure would have loved to see this," Coach says, smiling now. "Jazz is a great kid. A real talent and an excellent leader. He's got heart. But lately he has definitely been thinkin' a little too highly of himself."

"Are you sure his name is Jazz?" I ask. "I could have sworn it was Jeremy."

Coach just laughs and laughs, even though I wasn't trying to be funny.

* * *

**Things pick up real quick if you stick with me. Reviews mean I might be inspired to take a study break and update again this weekend... Just sayin'. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Fries With That

**Aw, you guys like Alice. That's so lovely.**

**So I probably should have mentioned last time that this and _Under These Lights _are loosely based on the TV show Friday Night Lights. Don't own that. This Alice isn't based on anyone from the show.**

**So! Here we go. Chapter 2. Now we've got Jazz on the scene.**

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

First day of school. Never have I ever been stared at more. I feel like I'm living in some strange combination of _Not Another Teen Movie _and a zoo.

I'm the one in the cage and they all stare.

People in Dillon need to collectively get a fucking life. For fucks sake, I'm just the fucking new girl not some wild animal sent here to disturb their fragile habitat. Still, my short black hair, red lips, and all black outfits sure make me stick out in the masses of blue and gold and big hair and too much make up.

I hate it here. Officially.

In English our teacher tells us how we're going to skip whole sections of Shakespeare plays that she considers to "risqué." I have a question about the reading list and she assures me that we won't be really anything too "subversive."

And that is exactly what this town needs. Subversion. Revolution. Anything to wake these people up to how stupid their lives are.

Needing a break from the madness I decide to take a lunch time walk. Unfortunately, it's hot as fuck and I don't really have any clue where the fuck I'm going. This town isn't very big and I've been living here for months, but I just haven't bothered to get to know it yet.

But then I happen upon a fast food place. They look like they have milkshakes. I love milkshakes.

I get my food and realize that this place is packed with my new peers, none of which I plan on talking to once this year. If I wasn't so distracted by my stomach I could have figured out how to avoid this situation.

"Hey!" There is shouting and waving and it takes me longer than it should to realize that they are directed towards me. "Alice! We've got room. Pull up a chair."

I grimace when I see the throwing guy cowboy and his grinning friend. I've seen the silent grinning friend at school and there was a lot more scowling than grinning today so I decide to change his nickname. With them is the infamous Bella Swan who I saw around a couple times this summer but haven't talked to and a blonde super model looking type.

There is literally no other place to sit so I begrudgingly approach, tossing my tray on the table because I'm unable to hide how cranky I am at the prospect of talking to people when all I want to do is enjoy my milkshake in solitude.

Said milkshake almost spills, but the cowboy saves the day. My opinion of him raises ever so slightly.

"Well, if it isn't the overly chipper cowboy and his broody butt-buddy," I say in greeting.

Wow, no verbal filter at all. It's a wonder I don't have friends. Broody butt buddy. Sometimes I really amuse myself.

The broody one actually lets out a laugh while the blond scowls and Bella Swan's mouth falls open in a nice little O shape. This thoroughly distracts the broody one, who now can't seem to stop looking at her mouth.

Blow jobs. He's thinking about blow jobs. And from his best friend's girlfriend. Naughty.

"Hey, Alice," says the cowboy. He's the only one not shocked by my little statement and this annoys me. "You remember Edward." Right, the silent once grinning now brooding one. "This is Rosalie and my girlfriend, Bella."

Edward. Right. Coach mentioned him.

"Hello," says Bella.

"That's a weird meal, don't you think?" Rosalie snaps. I find her bitchiness kinda nice. At least she's honest, unlike all the other fake ass people I've met.

"Not when you're the only vegetarian in Texas," I reply, watching Edward devour his hamburger with faint repulsion.

"Meat's good," he informs me, his voice deep and so fucking Texas.

"We've got vegetarian options," replies Rose, defensively. "There's chicken on the menu."

I laugh. It has to be a joke right? But then everyone is staring at me.

"Oh, fuck, you're serious."

"I'm always serious," Rosalie says, her voice low and dangerous. Bella laughs this time, and I decide I might actually like Rosalie.

"So, Alice, are you new to Texas? You've only been livin' with your dad for a little bit, right?" Jasper the cowboy asks.

I give him all the details - crazy mom, travelling baseball player new husband, me needing to finish high school – and he asks me a bunch of questions. I don't really get his interest. Although I talk, I'm actually much more interested in observing the dynamics between these crazy people. Edward is sipping a soda, leaned back in his chair, and Bella is staring right at his mouth now. Avidly. These people sure do have an oral fixation. I wonder if Jasper knows, but he seems perfectly oblivious.

Edward licks his lip, Bella's eyes go wide with lust, and Edward smirks. I have to look away because I'm pretty close to laughing. Rose notices too, elbowing Edward in the side.

Guess Jasper is the only one in the dark. How sad.

"So what do you think of Texas?" This is about the fourth fucking question he's had for me and I find him mildly irritating so I can't find it in me to lie.

"It's hot as fuck," I tell him. "And the people are borderline clinically insane."

"How so?" Jazz demands, seeming genuinely curious.

"This football obsession is unhealthy and unnatural," I point out, brandishing my milkshake.

"Come on," Jasper groans, gesturing back wildly with his hands. "Everybody likes football!"

"Listen, cowboy," I continue. "It's just a game. You need to learn that there's more to life than throwing around a silly ball."

Apparently that's just too much for the throwing guy, and it's time to leave.

* * *

Somehow, I find myself with friends.

Sort of.

Turns out I have three classes with Rosalie, two with Edward, and one with Bella. They talk to me and stuff, don't appear to be ashamed to get caught associating with Coach's freaky daughter.

It's not necessary for me, having people to talk to. This year is about nothing but endurance, just putting in my time and getting into a decent art school so I can get the hell out of this terrible town. Back to the East Coast where people are still crazy but at least I can understand them.

Edward laughs at my jokes – even if most people don't get that they are indeed jokes – so I decide I like him.

Rosalie is a aggressive as ever, but I decide I like her too.

Bella… well, I'm reserving judgment. She's always really nice to me, but I don't buy her sweet little innocent act. I don't have a lot of patience for fake people, and I'm pretty sure Bella's goodness is indeed faked. She seems like pretty much everyone else here– obsessed with appearances, hypocritically Christian, and striving towards this bizarre conception of perfection.

But something about her is so sad and conflicted too.

I'm also pretty sure she's sleeping with her boyfriend's best friend. Call it a hunch.

And being sketchy like that is one thing, but the sheer hypocrisy of sleeping around and preaching Christian values at the same time is just unacceptable.

Not that Bella's very preachy.

But still.

Everything about her seems much more complicated when I see the way she looks at Edward Cullen. He is better (slightly) at hiding it, but they can't fool me. I feel like I've spent my whole life trying to really see people, and although things are a lot different here in Texas, love is love pretty much everywhere.

The whole messy love triangle thing sure makes things more interesting in a sort of soap opera kind of way.

As for the golden boy quarterback, he reminds me of a puppy. A smooth, cocky puppy. He seems to follow me like one too. I've started eating lunch with his friends, and therefore him. He insists on walking me to class. After a few days of his overly enthusiastic get to know you routine, I've finally had enough.

"This isn't fucking 1957," I snap, trying to walk fast enough to lose him. Unfortunately he's basically double my height and his long stride easily matches my short one. "I don't need a goddamn escort."

"You sure curse a lot. I bet Coach don't like you takin' the Lord's name in vain like that," Jasper replies, calm and cool and totally unaffected by my general bitchiness. I roll my eyes. "Plus I don't see nothin' wrong with walkin' a lady to class. No matter the century. We're goin' in the same way anyway."

"Jesus, you're like a fucking puppy."

"Damn, no need to get rude. I just want to be your friend, maybe change your mind about football. Your pop might be one of my favorite people on the planet," he says.

"Okay," I say, turning to face him as we get to my classroom. "Let's be friends. What do you want to talk about?"

"Uh... we gotta big game comin' up. First of the season."

I shake my head and smile ruefully.

"That, right there? That's why were not going to be friends," I explain.

"What?' he asks, looking genuinely concerned.

"Football isn't interesting, Jeremy," I say, turning and walking into my class. Jasper stands gaping in the hall.

"This ain't over, Alice Masen!" he calls. I pause but don't turn around. "You can't get rid of me that easy. And we both know you know my name."

The corner of my mouth twitches into a slight smile. I'm not really sure what to make of it.

* * *

Monday morning.

I'm not exactly surprised to hear that Jasper and Bella broke up. Well, Bella calls it a break up. Jasper says they are taking a break. They fight it out in the hallway before class and I watch with bated breath, fascinated by the drama. These people are characters to me. It's like I'm living in their TV show. I know it makes me an asshole, how I don't care enough to find anything real in them.

I'm not the only one watching. Edward leans against the locker, listening to his two best friends bicker. He stares at the ground and try as I might I can't read his expression.

Finally Bella has enough. She loops her arm through mine and we're off to class.

* * *

**So things really pick up next chapter. I'll probably post it tomorrow. Probably.**


	3. All Fall Down

**I really like this chapter, even if it's rather tragic. Hope you do to. **

**Finals are terrible and a review would make me feel a whole lot better, encourage me to take more update/study breaks.**

**The review have been so lovely. **

**I don't own anything.**

* * *

Jasper Whitlock gets hurt at the first football game of the season. I see every horrible moment because I'm in the stands, supporting Coach. It's his first game as a Panther, too.

Jasper tackles a player at least double his width. His body seems to fly through the air, and for one moment he looks beautiful to me. Other worldly instead of painfully unremarkable.

But the landing is not beautiful.

I observe people, watch people, work to get their essence into my art without having to talk to them at all. I know bodies. I study bodies, and the lines of Jasper's when he lands are all wrong.

Apparently I'm the only one unsurprised when he doesn't get up. I know, as soon as he makes that awful and awkward landing that it's over. Jasper won't walk again. It seems wrong, to be so pessimistic about something so serious, but I know it. I don't know how I know, I just do.

Way deep down in my bones, I know.

It breaks my heart. Even though Jasper has been too cliché – with the football and the cheerleader (ex) girlfriend and the accent and the all-American good looks – for me to pay much attention to him, I wouldn't want this for anyone.

A couple tears even roll down my cheeks. They are quiet, nothing like the sobbing women surrounding me in the stands, but they surprise me anyway.

Coach doesn't talk as we drive to the hospital after the Panther's manage to win, playing out the final minutes after Jasper gets taken away in an ambulance. I watch my dad with concern. The whole town is heart broken but it seems like they are more worried about their season than anything else. I know it's not like that for Coach. My dad is scared, not for the team but for Jasper.

I want to say something comforting, but it all seems like a lie so I keep my mouth shut.

The waiting room is too depressing, with all the people packed in there still in their festive game attire. Coach is pacing around, unseeing. For an artist I'm really bad at emotion. Especially other people's emotion. There is a lot of it in here. I leave to wander the halls.

Bella Swan is broken in an abandon hallway. She's sitting on the floor, sobbing. Her hands shake so badly they rattle the pom poms she still clutches. I try to imprint her image in my head so I can get it on to a canvas or in my sketchbook. The thought is cold and it's scary, how inhuman I feel sometimes. To make up for it I crouch down next to Bella, deciding to comfort her even though I couldn't comfort my own father.

"Bella?" I talk quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder. She blinks a little. It takes her awhile to process that I'm here with her at all.

Now I feel all those emotions. They seem to catch up with me. The tears are back in my eyes, but I ignore them, focusing on Bella Swan.

"Hi," she manages. I almost laugh because it seems like such a silly thing to say. "Is… is Edward here?"

Edward. The best friend. I suddenly remember that Bella broke up with Jasper a week ago. It surprised me. Bella seemed the type to stick with the golden boy forever. The break up made me respect her.

I wonder what will happen to them now.

"I don't know," I reply, trying to keep my voice soothing. "The waiting room is full. Everyone came over after the game. I'm sure he's down there."

Bella starts violently shaking again. I can't take it and pull her into my arms. We sit there in that hall for a long time, rocking in each other's arms. Trying to share very different kinds of grief and provide comfort, even if it's impossible.

Eventually Bella freaks out, worried that we won't hear any updates unless we're in the waiting room with everyone else. We walk back together. I keep my arm around her, scared that if I let go she'll totally fall apart.

She finds her parents. I find Coach. He's sitting now, bouncing his leg in place and looking like he's about to fall apart too. I squeeze myself in next to him, taking his hand. He holds it tight.

"Are you tired?" he asks, voice croaky and low. Everyone looks at us because we're disturbing the silence of this room with words. "Do you want to go home? I can get a ride with someone."

I just shake my head. There is no way I would leave him like this. He doesn't ask again.

We wait, but answers never come. Jasper's mom enters at some point late in the night, announcing that he made it through surgery but won't be up for awhile. There is nothing to know, not yet.

But I know. Without any doubt, I know.

The waiting room clears out, but Coach wants to stay, to be here when Jasper wakes up. I fall asleep on the couch.

When I wake up again, the sun is up and I'm being carried through a parking lot. I glance up, realizing that Coach is bringing me to the car. It makes me smile, remembering how he would do this when I was a little kid. I used to fall asleep in a lot of weird places, but when Coach was around I'd always wake up in bed.

I still manage to fall asleep in a lot of weird places. I'm really good at sleeping.

"Pops," I murmur when we get to his Bronco. "I'm awake."

He sets me down by the vehicle and opens the door for me.

"Did you see him?" I ask as we pull out of the parking lot.

Coach nods.

"And?"

"He wanted to know who won the game," Coach murmurs, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

I go silent, not knowing what to think about any of this.

* * *

Before the accident I found Jasper Whitlock to be supremely uninteresting. Most popular guy in school, football star, local hero. I figured him out quick.

In this post-accident world, he is all I can think about. I don't understand it. I am not part of this town and I don't care about football. It's obviously tragic, but the level of my heartbreak for a guy I don't even know is puzzling and extremely vexing.

Fuck, that is horrible. What kind of sick fuck becomes obsessed with a guy because he's broken? Because his legs don't work? Because all his dreams, his whole life, seems to be gone?

Still if I could somehow snap my fingers and change it, somehow rewrite history and make it so he never went for that tackle, I would.

But life doesn't work that way, and before he got hurt I found his perfection boring

Somehow, his accident makes this town real to me. Before, I looked at it with a combination of anthropologic fascination, mild disgust, and pretty much just dismissing everyone I met as a total wacko.

They think I'm a totally wacko, so I guess we're square. And I can't really blame them. Its painfully obvious I'm different.

Of course there are exceptions, people that aren't unbearable to be around. I liked Edward from the moment I met him, mostly because he didn't stare at me like I was an alien. Rosalie with her outright bitchiness was a welcome relief from all the fake girls who managed to be overly nice to your face and just plain cruel behind your back. Even Bella has somehow wormed her way into my closed off, cold heart.

But now Jasper can't walk and all of a sudden these people aren't just a case study into the bizarre for me. They are real and feeling

The grief I witness and feel for Jasper Whitlock is genuine.

It's the ultimate proof that bad things happen to good people.

I go see him for the first time with Coach. It's strained, uncomfortable, and part of me feels like I shouldn't even be here. But Jasper gives me a small smile. A real smile, not one hiding any pain or trying to pretend that everything is okay, and suddenly I'm very glad I came.

It doesn't take me long to identify Jasper's coping strategy: denial. He is trying so hard to be strong, to be the same easy going Jasper with the same spirit. It won't last. It can't. Eventually, he'll have to deal with the loss.

Something about his strange grace and his desperation to hold in all that sadness has me wanting to come back. Jasper and Coach talk, and I try to figure how to ask if I can come back without sounding like an idiot.

And then I notice his hands.

His fingers are curled over at the knuckle. His hands make loose fists. It must be part of his injury. Not only has he lost his legs, but he hands aren't the same either.

Images pop into my head, ones I didn't even try to save for artistic inspiration. Ones I didn't even bother to remember. Not on purpose anyway.

His big strong hands catching my milkshake when I knocked it over on the first day of school. His long fingers wrapped around a football like they were made just for that one purpose. Him waving at me with boyish enthusiasm.

"Can I draw you?" I blurt out. Both men look at me in surprise. Coach raises an eyebrow at me and looks faintly amused.

"What now?" Jasper asks.

"I… uh…" I take a deep breath and approach his side, grabbing his hand. He looks surprised, but not mad. His skin is warm and soft. I run a finger over his knuckles. "You have really great hands."

"Uh…" Jasper says. Coach chuckles.

"Hands are hard," I continue. My panic at the thought of him refusing me is irrational. Still, he can't say no. I won't let that happen. "But your hands… they're beautiful. I'd really love to draw them, if you don't mind."

"Uh…"

Oh, fuck. I'm such an insensitive asshole.

"Sorry," I say, leaping away from him and dropping his hand. "I'm a dick."

"Alice…" I ignore Coach's reprimand.

"This is all new for you and your hands are probably a bad topic, second only to your legs." Holy fuck what is wrong with me? I slap a hand over my mouth, absolutely horrified. "Oh, fuck. Sorry, just forget I asked. I didn't mean to be such an insensitive asshole about everything that's happened to you in the last couple weeks. And I'm sorry for saying sorry so much. You're probably really sick of that."

Coach shakes his head at me. Jasper just blinks a lot. And his ears turn a little pink.

"Sorry," I say again, backing out of the room. "I'll just meet you at the car okay, Coach? I'm just going to take a time out and practice not being a giant fucking asshole."

Then laughter. Big laughter. Belly laughing. It's coming from Jasper which is a little shocking. The joyful sound juxtaposed with the miserable surroundings and his back brace is a bit much to get my head around.

I just scowl at him. There is really no need to make me feel like any more of a stupid idiot.

"Laugh it up," I snap, hands on my hips. 'That's real great. I'm obviously not good at this."

"It's fine," Jazz says, when he finally gets a hold of himself. A smile stays on his face. A real smile. The same smile he gave me the first time I saw him at the diner, before he got cranky I hadn't heard of him.

"Okay. Good. I'm sorry this happened to you. I'm leaving now, never again to shame myself in your presence."

I glance at Coach, wishing he would jump in to save me from myself. He's too busy looking amused.

"Alice, wait," Jasper says. "You drawnin' me would involve you coming to see me a lot, right?"

"Yeah," I say, the hope back. I have to get those hands right on paper. Anything else isn't an option.

"All right. Draw on, I say."

His smile makes me feel shy.

* * *

**I really hate writing the same scene twice, so for more detail I recommend reading _Under These Lights _for those of you who haven't already. **

**Thanks for reading.**


	4. Visiting Hours

**If I had time I would reply to every single review. They are all so thoughtful and kind. Thank you.**

**This one is longer.**

**I don't own nothin'.**

* * *

"Alice," he says, voice low and quiet. He was moved to the rehab center three days ago, and all the exercises they do are wearing him out. Till just this moment I thought he was asleep.

Bella thought he was asleep too, but she sits up straighter in the armchair across the room at the sound of his voice. We drove out here together after she was done cheering. I think she's ready to go, but I want to finish the sketch. This angle is perfect.

"Yeah?" I reply, glancing up from my sketchbook. I sit with my legs crossed at the end of the bed. His foot is pressed up against my calf. He can't feel the contact, but it warms me up in this cold, sterile room.

"I thought you didn't like me," he murmurs.

"Just because I didn't bow down on the football alter of Jasper Whitlock doesn't mean I didn't like you," I reply.

I hear Bella's sharp little intake of breath, but Jazz doesn't seem to notice. Edward and Bella are super careful around Jasper when they visit. It's like they treat him like a little kid, going through great lengths to make sure that they don't bring up anything that could even possibly maybe upset him.

Football is definitely on the banned list. How super good he once was at football and the way this town worshiped him is basically the ultimate taboo.

I'm not like they are. It's exhausting and I can tell Jasper hates it.

"You thought my name was Jeremy," he mutters. I smile and bend back to my drawing, He's still offended by my reaction to our first meeting. For some reason this makes me weirdly happy.

"I'm sorry, Justin," I reply. "My bad."

Jazz huffs. We have a few more silent moments.

"You didn't like me," he insists. I sigh, deciding to tell him the truth.

"That's not it," I say, still talking quietly. I can feel Bella listening, but she's made no move to even remind Jasper of her presence in the room. She sits off to the side so it would be a lot of hard work for Jasper to even look that way.

Still, he's already so much better. I saw him grab a pencil yesterday. It was awesome. He doesn't really see his own progress, though. It breaks my heart and drives me crazy.

"Than what was it?" he pushes.

I set down my charcoal and look at him. His expression so earnest, his eyes so blue.

"Fuck, this is so fucked up," I mutter. "But you just didn't… interest me. I didn't find you interesting."

"You didn't find me interestin'?" he repeats, not getting it and not liking it.

"I'm not proud of it, but you were like the real life embodiment of the popular guy in all those played out, cliché teen movies. The surface stuff about you seemed so expected. Hot guy, cheerleader girlfriend, football star."

"Alice, that's terrible!" Bella finally speaks up. Despite her offence, I don't look away from Jasper's face. I'm worried I've gone too far, that he'll tell me never to come back, that I'll never get to finish this sketch.

His brow is furrowed, blue eyes narrowed. He thinks hard, but doesn't necessarily look mad.

"I mean really, think about what you are saying, Alice! Words hurt." Still, I ignore Bella.

"It's fine, Bells," Jasper says quietly. "It's honest. You could learn a lesson from Alice."

That sure shuts her up. For the first time I wonder if Jasper has any inkling of what's going on with his ex-girlfriend and his best friend. They don't come in together anymore. They don't even look at each other.

Or maybe Jazz just wants her back. I cringe at the thought but refuse to analyze my reaction.

Things get awkward. We leave not long after. I start visiting Jasper by myself.

* * *

Somehow I find myself at the center daily. Usually I draw. Sometimes we chat. He says he likes how I talk to him like a real person. He says he likes how I don't pity him. He hates the pity. Sometimes we just hang out, watching TV with his ridiculous roommate, Peter.

Something changes. Maybe it's always been right here but I just couldn't see it. I was so damn determined to hate Dillon.

Tonight I've squeezed myself in right next to Jasper in his narrow bed. The TV plays quietly while I draw his hands, needing to get them just right even as I picture them picking up a football or touching my skin.

It's different now, the way they curve at the minor knuckles.

"You're hands are so small," he muses. I drop my charcoal pencil and let him interrupt my sketching. He takes my hand in his, the best he can. We both smile at his newfound control over his hands, even if he'll never be able to straighten his fingers again. My whole little hand fits in his palm. I giggle because when you put them together, his look comically fucking huge and mine are itty-bitty, even with his curled fingers.

I glance up at him, a little surprised to see that his face is so close our noses are practically touching. He looks at me intently, and my belly gets all fucking fluttery. It shouldn't be doing that. He is far too wholesome for me, but I notice the light dusting of freckles across his nose and suddenly wholesome doesn't seem so bad.

"All of you is so small," he continues. His voice is low and the atmosphere is fucking charged, but I don't know what to do about it. "I mean, Bella is small, but you are really, really small."

I wrinkle my nose, not fucking liking this at all.

He still doesn't know about her and Edward. If anything is even going on with Bella and Edward. I don't know anything for sure. If he suspects anything, he's failed to share it with me.

And that's just fine. He doesn't need anymore hurt.

Still, the thought that he might be hung up on Bella makes me angry, even if it shouldn't.

Plus, I really hate being reminded of my size.

"Aw, that's no good," I say, pulling away and gathering my sketching supplies.

"What now?" he asks, confused.

"It's no good, you comparing me to Bella." I move off his bed, pulling my bag over my shoulder.

"Why not?" he asks looking so fucking confused I can't help but smile at him. In some ways he's awfully naïve.

I approach him slowly, putting a hand on his shoulder and move my face toward his. Jasper immediately looks at my mouth and I hold back my smirk because it's so fucking obvious that we're got spark. I can't really believe I didn't notice it sooner.

When there's almost no space between our lips I stop, pleased that his breathing has picked up, just like mine.

"Figure it out," I murmur before pulling away, kissing his forehead, and turning towards the door.

"Hey!" he says as I walk away. I grin to myself because his voice is all croaky. "Where're you goin'?"

"I've got places to be, Mr. Whitlock," I tell him, smiling over my shoulder. "Places to be. I'll see you later!"

A grin slowly spreads on his face as I slip out of the room. I lean against the wall in the hallway outside his room for a moment, collecting myself. I run a thumb over my bottom lip, thinking about what it would feel like to kiss him.

When I kiss him.

Because Jasper's accident made me see I was wrong about a lot of things in Dillon, Texas. Especially the golden boy himself.

* * *

"You're quiet," I say, studying Jasper from my chair across the room as he eats his dinner. Normally he's happy to see me, flashing me that somewhat stunning grin when I enter the room.

Today all he's given me is a head nod and a couple one-word answers. At first I thought he was just having a bad day. He has bad days where he lets himself mourn and stew in how unfair this all is. I think it's good, that he is letting himself get angry. The way he was pushing everything down before couldn't have been fucking healthy.

But this seems like more. Like something else.

I don't need to talk. I don't mind silence but the way Jasper keeps stabbing his otherwise untouched steak is grating on my fucking nerves.

"I didn't think you came out here for the good conversation," he snaps. I raise my eyebrow at him, not because I'm offended but because it is so far from his super polite, exhaustingly proper self.

"I don't mind the conversation," I reply dryly, setting down my pencil as I wait for him to continue.

I don't know what's bugging him and I'll gladly talk it out with him, but there is no way I'm gonna be his punching bag. Fuck that.

"Then why the fuck do you come here?" he demands, looking angry and shoving the tabletop that allows him to eat in bed away.

"To draw. To hang out with one of my only friends in Dillon."

He face looks a little less mean after that.

"You like me?" he asks.

"Fuck, Jasper. Of course I like you. I wouldn't be spending all this time with you if I didn't like you," I reply, having no fucking clue how he could possibly think I don't like him.

"But… The way you were before didn't seem like you thought too highly of me."

Ah so we're back to this. I thought we were done analyzing what I first thought of him when I met him. Guess not.

"I'm a bitch to all of the people I like," I tell him, pleased that I've made him smile even if it's only a little bit.

"Really?"

"No. I didn't really like you then," I confess.

"So you only like me cuz I'm a cripple?"

"Don't be a fucking idiot. That's not how it is at all and you know it," I snap, feeling horribly ashamed. "And what the fuck is this really about? Do you want me to go? I thought you like me coming in to see you but if you don't then—"

"I don't want you to go," he says, looking a little panicked now. "I'm sorry. It's just… I thought I had one of the best days in a long time yesterday."

I let out a snort. "That sure does explain your delightful mood tonight," I quip.

He lets out a big sigh and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"This week's been rough, you know," he continues, sounding calmer now. I pull my chair closer to him so I can hear properly. "All the stuff they're having me do. It's just frustrating because it all seems so fucking basic. I used to be so in control of every part of my body and now I can't even move my hands right or open them fully."

"I like your hands," I murmur, resting my chin on his bed and looking up at him.

He really is handsome. Like, fucking Disney prince charming handsome.

Nothing like me.

His looks match Bella's. I wonder if Edward ever thinks about it, how the two of them seem to match when it comes to the ascetics.

"I kinda figured that out, Ali," he says with a slight smile. "Your notebook is just about full of 'em."

"What made it a good day?" I ask when he doesn't keep going.

"Edward got in to college," he says. "Football scholarship."

I'm reminded again just what Jasper lost. A few months ago he was the best high school quarterback in Texas (which is apparently really saying something) and had big plans to take the Panthers to State, get a scholarship to play in college, and then go pro.

Now his best friend is the one with the scholarship and Jasper spends his time teaching his body to shit on command.

It's a rather nasty business, this rehab stuff.

"So I heard."

"He came over and busted me out to celebrate."

I laugh because Jasper makes it sound like this state of the art rehab center is prison.

"You rule breaker, you," I say, nudging him slightly. He looks down and smiles shyly. My heart seems to skip a beat. It's never fucking done that before so I decide to ignore it.

"Anyway, Bella was comin' right as we were goin' and she ended up with us. You know the three of us have been close since middle school. We got some beer, went down to the lake and just… relaxed. It felt good. So fucking normal. We had this big old bon fire and talked about nothing and everything and made each other laugh. It was just what I needed," he tells me.

"Sounds perfect," I say.

"And nothin' seemed weird. Everything seemed normal, even if Bella and I aren't together anymore, I still felt like we were."

"How so?"

"I don't know. It's like I forget or somthin' that the break up even happened. It's like I didn't really processes it before the accident, so I don't totally get it now. I have to remind myself a lot. And I told her when she first starting coming in that I understood, that us being apart is good because I'm totally fucking useless."

I reach up and flick his ear because he knows I don't like it when he gets all self-depreciative. He rubs the spot, scowls at me, but then goes on as I settle back down with my chin on the mattress.

"Even if I didn't mean to, it's like I'm just holdin' on to anything that's familiar in this unfamiliar situation and that would mean Bella. It's just I'm feelin' better, more like myself, you know? And… I kissed her yesterday."

My eyebrows go way up at that but I don't say anything. It freaks me out how much I do not like that. At all. Not one fucking bit.

"Ed was gettin' the beer and I thought we were havin' a moment or something. But she didn't really kiss me back and then Edward came out, needin' money and I've never seen her move that fast as she went with him back in to the store."

I lift my head so I can study Jasper more intently. He stares down into his lap, a slight grimace of his face.

Fuck, he knows. Or at least he suspects. I suspect too. Have for a while, but I don't know anything for sure.

I have an intense and overwhelming desire to protect him from anything and everything. To help shoulder the pain. To lock him away somewhere secret where he can't get hurt ever again.

"Sorry," he mutters, shaking out his shoulders. He smiles at me, and I can see it's a struggle for him to brighten up. I hate that he feels the need to do that for me. He shouldn't have to hide how he feels.

"It's okay," I murmur.

"It's good that I can talk to you," he says, brushing his knuckles over my cheek. I smile up at him. "You're the only one that doesn't treat me like a fuckin' porcelain doll. As long as you don't mind."

"I don't mind," I assure him. "Quite the opposite, actually."

"Let's watch a movie."

And with that he changes the subject. Part of me wants to push him, but he'll tell me when he's ready. I'm not one to pry.

I put something on before curling myself into an easy chair at his side. It takes about twenty minutes for me to fall asleep.

Somehow Jasper flicking off the TV an hour and a half later wakes me up. I yawn widely, stretching my arms above my head.

"Fuck, it's late," I mutter, wincing as I read the missed texts from Coach. He wonders where I am a lot, and I'm still not used to it, having someone want to know what I'm doing all the time. But I kind of like it, even if it's fucking weird. "I should go."

Jasper doesn't acknowledge that I even said anything.

"You okay?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him in concern.

He doesn't reply so I get up, gathering my things as I prepare to leave.

"Alright. I'm out."

I move to the door when Jazz finally starts to talk.

"One night, less than a week after the accident – I was still at the hospital – Bella ended up fallin' asleep as we watched a movie, kinda like you just did." His voice is low and calm, but he still won't look at me. "I should have woken her up, had her go home, but she's so pretty, you know?"

"Pretty like a princess," I mumble.

"What?" he asks, turning to look at me.

"Nothing. Keep going,"

"Well… Bella, she talks in her sleep. Usually she just babbles nonsense. It's pretty fucking annoying, actually. But that night she…"

The suspense is killing me. Jasper stares at his lap.

"What did she say?" I push, really fucking curious.

"She just… said his name. Twice. She said his name twice. I've never heard her say my name. Not in the four years we dated. Never in her sleep."

He looks so sad now and I have this crazy urge to crawl into his lap and really share the burden.

It's not like me. I'm anti social. I can't relate to other peoples pain. I am definitely not a hugger.

"I'm sorry, Jasper," I whisper. "I'm sorry everything is so complicated right now."

He stops talking, and I don't push him. I can tell by the far away look in his eye that he's lost in his head. I don't like him lost, but I don't know how to fix anything. At first I was just an impartial third party who wanted to draw him, but now I care way more than I'm comfortable with.

I don't want Jazz to still feel this way about Bella.

I don't want to admit that the reason is because I want Jazz to like me instead.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I whisper, not knowing if I'm capable of it right in this moment.

He just shakes his head, looking down in his lap.

Sighing heavily, I march over to him and kiss his cheek. "Goodnight, Jasper," I whisper in his ear. I smile down at his shocked face for a moment, pushing his hair back away from his forehead before turning around and marching back towards the door.

"Alice," he calls after me as I'm about to leave his room.

"Yeah?" I reply, turning to look at him.

"You didn't ask who," he says sounding so fucking sad. "When I said she said his name, you didn't ask me whose name I was talking about."

I wince, recognizing my mistake.

"Please, just tell me. Not knowing is worse. I mean… the way they said goodbye last night could have been perfectly innocent," he rambles, kind of losing me. "Technically they were just hugging, even if they did look pretty fuckin' intimate. Please, I just want to know."

"You were talking about your day with the two of them earlier," I reply. "It wasn't hard to piece it together."

"Alice, come on."

"I look at people," I tell him. "It's an artist thing, I guess but I spend a lot of time studying people, trying to figure them out from a distance. Figure out what makes them tick, you know?"

I pause, choosing my words carefully for what may be the first time in my life.

"They care about you," I continue. "They very obviously love you. But… they feel something for each other, too. I can tell. I don't know what that means, I don't know anything about anything for sure and I don't want to cause any problems. But you've got two options – you just keep on keeping, doing your own thing, not thinking or worrying about it. Or you ask. I don't think they'd lie to you if you asked. Mostly people choose what they want to believe anyway. So choose."

Jasper nods thoughtfully, and I leave, not really knowing what to think myself.

* * *

**Questions? I'll really try to answer them. Comments? Concerns? **


	5. Different for Girls

**Thank you all for leavin' the love.**

**I am four pages on Modern American Jewish history away from being done with college. This update is a study break. **

**Review maybe? As a graduation present?**

**I don't own anything**

* * *

Jasper's first day home from the rehab center isn't as happy as it should be, given the events of last weekend.

Although I wasn't there, I've heard all about it from a whole bunch of people – Rosalie, Jasper, Coach, randoms at school. No one actually saw what happened, but apparently Jazz confronted Edward and Bella. Edward walked away with a black eye. It's pretty much fact now. They are together. Or were together, probably before Bella broke up with Jasper.

The details are unclear and the whole thing is just emotionally draining, even if I'm not directly involved.

I went to see him the day after the charity thing at school where all this went down. He was just so unbelievably torn apart. He's angry and hurt and betrayed. He yelled about loyalty and losing everything. About his legs and his future and his girl.

This didn't seem like a good time to point out that they broke up.

But then he cried. Not once in all the time that I've been coming to see him has he cried. I don't think it was just about Bella. It was probably about a lot of things, but seeing him like that broke my heart. The worst was I was just powerless to do anything about it.

It made me angry too, that anyone could add to his pain like that. My misplaced anger was at Bella, who's been nothing but a friend to me since I got here. If I'm being totally honest with myself – something I hate to do – I think I was also a little pissed that Jazz kissed her that day by the lake. That's probably unfair.

Bella wasn't at school Monday and I went over to her house with Rose after school. I was pissed and mean to her. She cried and told me to give it her best shot, to try and make her feel worse.

"I don't think it's possible to make me feel any worse or guilty or low," she told me, causing my anger to drain out of me. "There is nothing you could possibly say about me that I haven't already thought."

Then she told me the whole sordid story. How she was so broken after her dad's affair went public, how Edward was there when Jasper wasn't, how she finally saw it was Edward all along, how she broke up with Jazz, how she planned to tell him everything the night he got hurt.

The situation is so impossible. It's hard to hate Bella or even blame her entirely. They are both just so crushed. I'm sure Edward is too.

And it's only gotten worse since.

Everyone saw Jasper furious, Bella crying, and Edward's black eye. People put the pieces together. And the way this town is treating Bella is just heartbreaking.

None of this technically involves me, but I feel it all anyway.

She really is my friend, despite everything. It's a little hard to reconcile that with everything that's going on with Jazz.

Edward seems to have retreated into himself, besides occasionally wailing on someone. All I can do is be there for both Jasper and Bella, as strange as it seems.

* * *

"This isn't too shabby, Whitlock," I murmur, checking out his new digs on his second day at home. I came over right after school, figuring he could use the company with both his parents at work

The house is now all handicap equipped and renovated with ramps and railings and other things that will make it easier for Jazz to do stuff on his own.

"This room is fucking huge," I observe.

"It's my parents," Jazz explains, punching a pillow unnecessarily, not looking at me. "It was anyway. It's the only bedroom on the ground floor so they are upstairs in my old fuckin' room. How bizarre is that?"

"You make it work," I reply moving over to him and plopping myself down in his lap. He blinks at me, obviously a little surprised. I grab his chin, making sure he's looking right at me. "That's all you can do. Stop pouting about it and leave that damn pillow alone."

Exhaling loudly he leans back in his chair and scowls at me. I poke at his frown until he begrudgingly gives me a smile.

"There," I murmur, resting my forehead against his temple and draping an arm around his shoulders. "That's better. "

Slowly I feel Jasper relax against me. His arms come around me and he hugs me back.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," I whisper. "But it will get easier. I promise. Time heals all stuff and whatnot."

I rest a hand on his chest and close my eyes. It's strange because I feel totally content and totally on fire at the same time.

Unresolved sexual tension. That's what I'd call it. I wonder if Jasper feels it too.

Probably not. He's still licking his wounds about Bella. I wonder if it's about him loving Bella or him losing Bella. It seems like a pride thing really. Not that he isn't entitled to his hurt right now, but I still think it's a pride thing rather than a heart break thing.

Jasper snuggles closer, his face against my neck.

I haven't had sex in eight months. Why the fuck am I thinking about that now?

Fuck, I need to get out of here soon. The proximity is torturous. It's even worse that he doesn't think about me the way I think about him. He probably just sees me as this annoying little freak who—

And then his lips move against my collarbone, causing my eyes to fly wide open and my breath to hitch. At first it's so gentle, I'm not sure if it's happening. Maybe the sexual tension has finally caused me to experience delusions.

Can delusions be physical? Fuck, I don't even know. It takes all my strength to hold in my whimper and even then my breath hitches in my throat.

Glancing down I see the muscles in his jaw move as he kisses me again, right at the base of my throat. His fingers spay out on my lower back, pulling me closer. My arms wrap tighter around his neck as his lips continue to move.

My fingers in his hair encourage this.

This is the strangest first kiss in the history of everywhere and I love it.

I let out an embarrassing whimper – unable to hold it back this time – and Jasper pulls away, looking up at me like he's worried I'm going to freak out at him.

I shift slightly, lining our lips up. I fully intend on kissing him in this moment, but then I really do freak out. Not because I don't want to but because I don't know if he actually wants to.

And also because I want to so much it's a little bit terrifying.

Rather abruptly I scramble off his lap.

"Oh, fuck," he mutters, breathing heavily.

"No, don't do that." I hate that he feels bad. I can tell that he's already berating himself.

"Oh, fuck," he repeats.

"Jasper, it's fine, really," I say, sitting on the edge of his bed and burying my face in my hands. "Please don't freak out."

Wonderful words from someone who is currently freaking the fuck out.

"Oh, fuck. I am so sorry." I glance up, smiling a little when I see that his face is buried in his hands, he's sitting just as I'm sitting. "I don't even… fuck. You're here, doin' this nice thing for me, fuckin' hangin' out with me because my fuckin' mom asked you to fuckin' babysit me while she's at fuckin' work and I fuckin' force myself on you. What the fuck am I even doing? It's pathetic."

"Jazz," I say, absolutely horrified by this. I tug on his wrist until he looks at me. "It's not like that. I'm here because I want to be. I'm not a fucking babysitter."

"Come on, Alice," he says, pulling his arm away.

"She did ask me to come over, but I'm here because I want to be, Jazz," I insist.

"Stop fuckin' lying to me. And just, you know what, just get the fuck out. I don't need a fuckin' babysitter."

I growl a little in frustration. "Why the fuck aren't you listening?" I demand.

"Why are you here?" he demands, shrieking.

"I just told you," I reply, yelling right back. I've already told him twice.

He lets out a big huff before covering his face with his hands again. "So you aren't here to babysit me," he mutters. "But you don't want to kiss me either."

Again I pull at his wrist until I can see his face again.

"That's not it. It's not a question of want," I explain, trying to keep my cool.

"I get it," he continues as if I didn't even speak. "I've got nothin' going for me these days. Nothin' at all. I'm sorry I touched you like that."

I slap him and I don't even feel bad about it (mostly). He rubs his cheek and looks at me like I've totally lost my mind.

"Now you're going to have to fucking listen to me for once in your fucking life." I get his face, shaking my finger at him as I shout. "I know you're not good at this, this actually listening to what someone else has to say thing instead of just believing whatever it is you believe, but hear me now."

That was almost a low blow. His inability to really hear someone else is a big part of what led to the doom of him and Bella.

His eyes go wide as I take a deep breath.

"I am here because I want to be, because I like you. Even if you are a cranky motherfucker, I like you and feel connected to you. Got that?"

He nods slowly.

"That… chest kissing thing," I say as Jasper's ears turn bright red. I smile because he's so cute. "I liked that too. I didn't move away because I didn't like it but because I liked it too much."

He just stares. I guess I've lost him.

"I was scared," I admit.

"Of what, baby?" he whispers. He blinks at me like this is the strangest thing I've ever said. It's not. I'm typically a pretty honest person. Except with myself. I am the one person I lie to on a regular basis.

"I was scared that kiss was about Bella, not about me," I tell him.

He jerks away from me as if I've slapped him again.

"How can you even bring her up to me right this minute?" he screams, getting a little hysterical. The defensiveness tells me he knows I have a point and it hurts, sharp and painful right in my chest. "She gone. I'm the one that's fuckin' done with her, tryin' to get over it. I can't fuckin' believe you're giving me shit about her when you're the one who still fuckin' hanging out with her!"

"That's not what I mean. That's not what I'm saying," I shout, totally beyond frustrated.

Talking to him is impossible. I might hit him again just to make myself feel better.

"I don't get why you'd want to spend anytime with someone like that," he continues, still not really hearing what I'm trying to make clear. "I hate it, Alice. How can you be both our friends?"

"You're telling me to stop hanging out with one of the three people at school who doesn't think I'm a complete crazy person?" I clarify.

"Yeah, I think I am. You're my friend, not hers."

That little display of possession has my hackles goin' right up.

"I'm my own, thank you very much," I reply, getting up and pacing back and forth in front of him. "And I don't agree with what Bella and Edward did. I think it was pretty damn shady, definitely immoral, but it's not for me to totally condemn them for it."

"I condemn them!" he shouts. "I condemn the shit out of them! How the fuck could they do this to me? How can you want to hang out with them when they did something like this?"

I roll my eyes because I've heard this about a thousand times in the last five days and I've over it.

"Yeah," I agree. "I see your point. I totally do, but I'm not going to stop hanging out with her. She needs me, especially the way they are treating her at school, something you could probably change if you set your mind to it, Mr. Town Hero. And it's not like I'm telling you to hang out with her. I'm not even telling you to forgive her, but she's still my friend."

"I can't believe you're defending her," he says with a groan.

"I'm not defending her actions," I reply with a groan of my own. "I'm not doing that at all. You aren't fucking listening to me again so I see no problem telling you that it's hard for me to hate her totally for what she did because if she didn't cheat on you then you'd still be together and that is not really something I'm for given how much I want your lips in my chest!"

Jasper just stares at me with wide eyes for a moment before hanging his head. "I still don't fuckin' want you hangin' out with her."

"I need a goddamn cigarette."

When Edward shows up ten minutes later, I know it's not going to be pretty. He's here not only to apologize for his actions, but also to plead with Jasper to talk to the team, explain to everyone that Bella and Jazz broke up before the accident – something only about six people know.

I advise Edward against this task. Jasper is not in a reasonable mood.

They fight. I can't hear any details as I smoke two more cigarettes.

Still, Jazz talks to the team a couple days later, getting them to lay off Bella a bit. We don't talk about the chest kissing again.

* * *

**Frustrating, aren't they? Don't worry. Time heals all things and whatnot. I think they're kinda cute, but I may be a little bit biased. **


	6. Look and Listen

**Thanks for all the reviews. Seriously, they are all so thoughtful and wonderful.**

**I don't own.**

**Onward!**

* * *

"Hey," I say when I get to his room. I find him sitting on his couch, staring moodily out the window. This place is giant. It's like two rooms. It's the size of the apartment I shared with my mom in New York pre filthy rich Phil. "Have you been doing this all day?"

"No," he mutters petulantly.

I roll my eyes. Since everything came out about Edward and Bella he's been particularly oh woe is me. And that's fine. In the last few months he's been dealt a shit hand. Everything is different now and it's hard for him. I hate how hard it is for him.

He lost the love of his life. Oh, yeah and that girl he was dating too. Then there's the best friend. I think he misses football more but Bella is more personal. Football broke his heart, Bella and Edward wounded his pride. The whole school knows and he decided not to go back. I don't really get how but he managed to do some sort of accelerated at home program.

He finished last week. Jasper Whitlock is officially a high school graduate.

Two days ago, Coach offered him an assistant coach position with the Panthers. He hasn't decided yet. The answer is obvious to me, but Jazz just needs to get out of this funk. He needs to get his head around being involved with the team in a very different way.

"Have you talked to Coach?" I continue as I approach him. He turns he head, staring out the window even though it's dark.

"No."

Ah, so it's going to be one of _those_ nights. Hopefully he doesn't pick a fight with me. Things have been okay with us since he chest kiss day, but we haven't discussed any of it.

It's gonna be a long, long night. Good thing I came prepared.

"Where are your parents?"

"Gone for the night. They had some work party thing somewhere," he mutters. He sounds so annoyingly miserable I feel myself get all twitchy.

In the last couple months I've learned that there is a big difference in Jasper letting out those bad emotions, dealing with them, and Jasper moping around, feeling sorry for himself. One productive, the other so fucking not.

It's painfully obvious that tonight he is so totally feeling sorry for himself.

"They left you alone?" I ask, plopping down next to him.

"I'm a fucking adult, Alice," he growls. "I can handle one night on my own." I roll my eyes at him again because even if his progress has been amazing since his accident, there really should be someone here. Just in case.

"Plus," he continues when I don't respond. "I told them you'd be here. They like it when you're around. Say I'm less cranky."

I just blink at him in surprise, uncomfortable with how touched I am by this statement. I decide to not think about it.

"Less cranky my ass," I reply with a snort. "The last week you've been crazy cranky, and rightfully so. But have no fear. I come prepared to bring joy to you."

I proudly show him my giant purse. For the first time since Coach offered him the job, he smiles at me. It warms me up. I ignore that too.

"You're like Santa. What present did you bring me, St. Nick?"

I smile back at him and slowly remove the bottle of whiskey from my bag. I'd never really done much whiskey drinking before Texas. I find it much better than the fruity as fuck drinks my peers consumed like water in New York.

"Best Santa ever, right here."

I smile at him as my stomach goes all fluttery even though I shouldn't care that he thinks I'm the best anything.

"You better be a happy drunk, Jasper Whitlock," I tell him getting up and heading towards the exit. "I'll get ice."

* * *

"But everyone loves football!" he insists for the hundredth time. And with way fucking more volume than necessary. I let out a groan and collapse in to the back of the couch. "I'm serious! Even Jesus himself loves the sport, I tell you what."

I'm supposed to be convincing him to take the QB coaching job for the Panthers. Instead I let him get me roped in to the same argument we've had pretty much daily for months.

"Jasper. I don't like football. No, that doesn't make me crazy or un-American. It just seems so damn pointless," I continue, lifting my head to look at him. At the beginning of the night I started on the far end of the couch, but I guess I've been inching closer to him with the more we drink. And it's me that's doing the inching. It is much more difficult for him to inch. Obviously.

I want to ask him how he can still love such a brutal sport, even after what it cost him, but he is finally happy for the first time in weeks. I don't want to kill his metaphorical mood boner.

"Although I must say," I continue, "I did like the way your thighs looked in those tight hot pants."

"Hot pants," he mutters, shaking his head at me. "They're so not hot pants. And you liked the way my thighs looked even when you didn't like me?"

I huff, irritated that I've let something personal like that slip.

"I didn't not like you," I say. Jaspers brow furrows as he tries to figure out what my drunk mouth is saying. "I just had no interest in you."

"Well at least someone thinks I'm interesting without football," he says, his face falling slightly. "Does that mean you only like me cuz I can't walk?"

I wince because it sounds really fucked up, even for someone like me who could care less about what the world thinks. Plus, he's asked this before.

"Dude, we've been over this. It's not like that. And… I would have figured it out eventually, that I like you," I say, knowing as the words leave my mouth that they're true. "I think I wanted to rebel against everyone else being too interested in you. I would have eventually figured out that I'm interested in you for more than your thighs."

He lets his head fall back as he laughs before taking another swing right out of the bottle. The ice and cups have long been forgotten about.

"I thought you were the most fascinating lil' thing I ever did see," he tells me, putting his arm along the back of the couch, millimeters from my shoulder. "Sittin' in that diner, ignoring your eggs to sketch like a fiend. All dark and strange and confident. And so not interested in me. That was weird."

I shake my head at him because that's a cocky little shit thing to say. But then his face falls suddenly and he looks away. I know what he's thinking and take his hand.

I really like his hands.

"You really miss it, don't you?" I murmur, running my thumb over his knuckles. It's a stupid question – of course he misses it.

He just nods.

"Then…" I pause, not sure if I should continue. I'm not usually very pushy or noisy. If people let me do my own thing then I don't really have interest in the details of theirs. With Jazz it's different. I want to know him. Really know him. Not in the way I know everyone else. Not in the way I study people to figure out what makes them tick without really ever bothering to talk to them. I want to figure out what Jasper thinks and how he thinks it.

"Just say it, Alice," he murmurs. I glanced up, a little surprised at how close our noses are.

This seems to happen to us more than is normal.

"If you miss it so much, why don't you go work with the team? Why don't you accept Coach's offer?" I ask, pulling my legs up under me so my face is a little more eyelevel with his.

"There are only three regular season games before the play-offs," he mutters.

"So?" I demand, frustrated by this lame response. "They wouldn't have gotten this far without you."

"That's debatable," he insists.

"No, it isn't. You are helping out Ben Cheney anyway. Why don't you want to make it official?" I ask, making myself a little uncomfortable with how pushy I'm being.

"It'll be totally different," he finally admits. "I don't know if I can take it, being a part of it as something other than what I was. It might kill me. Plus, I'd have to see Cullen everyday and the rest of them that know. They pity me, Alice. They all do, everyone in this fuckin' town."

"Well, that's just not true," I reply. "I don't pity you. Empathy isn't pity, I hope you now that. And if this getting you drunk thing didn't work to pull you out of your fucking funk my plan b was to kick your ass." He chuckles at this, probably because even with the lower parts of his body immobile, he would still have a huge physical advantage. "Coach doesn't pity you. He knows that part of what made you so great wasn't just your arm or your strength. It's your brain and that sure hasn't changed."

He blinks at me in awe, as if he never thought about it this way before. I try not to roll my eyes at him because sometimes he is so stupid for someone so bright.

"Why do you call your dad Coach?"

I laugh at his question because it's such a departure from what we were just discussing.

"Because everyone calls him Coach," I reply. "I don't think my mom even ever called him Carlisle. Sometimes I call him Pops."

He smiles and covers the back of my neck with his big hand, his knuckles pressed into my skin. The contact makes me happy. And also a little bit like I'm going to puke. This must be what normal people call butterflies. Fuck, I've never had or even imagined having fucking butterflies. What the fuck is going on here?

There is a difference between wanting to fuck someone and getting fucking butterflies. I've known for awhile that I wouldn't mind getting in Jasper's pants, but this is more than I signed up for.

If that's even possible for him any more.

"Have you ever been in love, Alice?" he asks, taking another swig of whiskey.

"No. I thought I was once when I was fifteen. Turns out I was just young and stupid as fuck," I tell him, taking the whiskey from him. I down more than I should in a failed attempt to drown the butterflies. "It didn't really end well. Why are you asking me that?'

Jasper just shrugs.

"Do you still love Bella?" I mentally smack myself around for asking something so fucking stupid, but at least he doesn't look particularly offended.

"Fuck, I have no idea. I don't think so. It really fucking sucks, that they would go and do all that, but…. I don't know. I just thought it would be worse, I would feel worse. If I loved her like they say love is supposed to feel than it would have broken my heart, right? I mean, not playing football breaks my heart ever damn day. All the time it's there in the back of my head that I can't walk. That my whole life is different. With Bella, when I think about it I get angry and I guess hurt, but I don't think about it much. Mostly I just miss my best friends."

I smile because his words are so close to my own thoughts on the subject.

"They'll be there when you're ready. If you want them back."

"I wouldn't go that far. I mean, Edward always kinda a dick, but I didn't think he'd do anything to me."

I want to tell Jazz that I'm pretty sure Edward loves Bella in the heartbreaking way he just described. That always on your mind, all consuming way that people write poetry and shit about. I wouldn't know anything about that first hand.

I don't like where my thoughts or feelings are going. We need a subject change.

"Shit, I love this song," I say, leaping up and turning up the volume on my iPod that's plugged in to his fancy speakers.

"You do?" he says, making a face. "It's just noise."

I ignore him, dancing around like something of a maniac in an attempt to feel more like myself, twirling around in front of him and spinning my head in a way that only serves to make me dizzier. I almost fall over and Jasper reaches up to steady me with hands on my hips. He's laughing and I'm laughing.

"Aw," he says, closing his eyes but still touching me. "This is terrible, terrible music. Noise! It's just noise."

Okay, I'll at it at the end there it is mostly noise, but it is far from terrible.

Reaching back instead of taking a step away from him, I turn it down. Something slower comes on, but my brain can't seem to remember who exactly when Jasper's hands are on my hips.

He'll probably never be able to get his fingers to straighten all the way, but he can do pretty much anything I can do with them anyway.

I sway a little, smiling down at him.

"You know I was never much of a dancer before," he tells me, pulling me a little closer. The tips of my toes hit the bottom of the couch. "But the way you move makes me wish I could still do it."

My breathing picks up because he's just so close.

Somewhere in the back of my head there is a little flicker of doubt. Last time we were this close Bella was firmly between us. I don't feel her here anymore, but that's probably just the booze talking.

Fuck it.

"Who says you can't dance?" I say, smiling down at him. "There are plenty of dances you can do without standing up at all."

He draws in a sharp breath at that, and my smile widens. I touch his face, just ghosting my fingertips over his cheeks. He sighs and pulls his arms around my lower back. My knees rest on either side of his on the couch, and I steady myself with a hand on his shoulder.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, slipping his hand between my black t-shirt and my black mini skirt, against my skin.

I roll my eyes at him as I lower my lips to his.

"You don't have to tell me that shit," I say, pausing before I make contact. "I'm going to kiss you anyway."

I close my eyes, planning on doing just that, but his hand against my throat keeps me away. I let out a frustrated little whimper and scowl at him.

"I mean it," he continues, staring at me so intently. It's a little unsettling, really, but there is no way I'm going back now. "You are absolutely gorgeous, Alice."

I stare at him like he's lost it. No ones ever called me beautiful before. I'm strange, unique, and on occasion cute. More common terms are freak, goth, or dyke. Girls like Bella and Rosalie, with their long hair and womanly curves, are beautiful.

"Why don't you believe me?" he asks, looking puzzled. "From the moment I saw you I thought you were the most strikingly beautiful thing. Even before it was okay to think you were beautiful, I thought you were beautiful. It's your tiny figure and these shocking grey eyes of yours and these plump red lips I can almost picture wrapped around—"

He stops abruptly, seemingly horrified by what he almost just said, and I smirk at him for a minute.

"But mostly it's your confidence. That's what makes you so fucking beautiful," he finishes, his voice a whisper.

I just stare down at him, completely amazed by this shockingly appealing person. Where the fuck did he come from?

I'm paralyzed above him, unable to move with all these fucking feelings rushing through me. It's scary, how big this feels, and I don't know what to do. It's never been like this before.

I briefly wonder if it's been like this for him with Bella before. But I'd really rather not know.

I'm so stupidly stunned into immobility that Jasper is the one that ends up kissing me.

It's an unexpectedly heady thing, kissing Jasper Whitlock. I expected heat and passion, which is there. The way my heart feels like it's going to burst in my chest as his lips move against mine – gently at first, and then more demanding – that catches me off guard and steals my breath.

That really just makes all the feelings worse. They are so bad that I can't even think about anything else. I let him sweep me away.

I've wondered – more times than I'm willing to admit – if his dick, like, works and shit. Guess I'll find out.

He continues to touch me and kiss me and I thought it would be strange, but it isn't. Not at all. Not even a little bit. It's actually kinda perfect.

He touches me through layers of my panties as my magenta tights. I let out a quiet breath and press my lips into his neck. He seems to like that and he touches me more aggressively, which is fine by me.

I pull my shirt off, wanting him to touch me everywhere.

When continue like this for a while, kissing and groping, but it's obvious that something is not quite right. I grind myself down against him and touch him on top of his sweatpants, but nothing.

Well, fuck.

I don't know how all this works, but I'm pretty willing to do just about anything to help him out.

Jasper tenses, leaning back against the couch and gently pushing me off his lap. We just sit there in silence. I need a moment to get my breathing under control.

"Fuck," Jazz says miserably. I try to take his hand to offer a little comfort, but he yanks it away from me. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

With each fuck he gets progressively angrier.

"Jazz, it's okay," I tell him.

"No, it's really fucking not, Alice," he snaps. I wince at his tone but have no idea how to deal with this. "This has never fucking happened to me before."

"Me neither." My lame joke is not appreciated and Jasper scowls. "Jazz, you haven't ever done this before. You know better than I do that in these post accident time, nothing is like it was. And that's okay."

Jasper just continues to scowl and brood. At least this time when I grab for his hand, he doesn't pull away.

"Do you want me to go?" I ask.

"No, I don't want you to go. But I'm so fuckin' tired of this."

"Don't be embarrassed," I whisper, giving him a brief kiss. "Come on, let's lie down."

Jasper pulls me into his chest, and we cling to each other, both needing a little comfort after the night we had.

* * *

It was supposed to be a quick little nap, but the next time I open my eyes the sun is too high in the sky for comfort. I panic because Jasper's parents are probably here. I was supposed to be long gone before they got home.

Instead I wake up in my underwear, snuggled up with their paraplegic son.

"Fuck," I mutter, attempting to grab my t-shirt that is just out of reach on the floor. Jasper grumbles in to the back of my neck, tightening his grip on me. "Jasper, I've got to go. It's fucking morning. Coach is going to be so pissed."

He grumbles something unintelligibly behind me.

"I mean it!" I scold, reaching so far for my t-shirt I actually roll off the couch and land with a thud on the floor. "Motherfucker, that fucking hurt."

"Alice?" Jasper mumbles sleepily, sitting up and supporting himself with his hands on the couch behind him. "You okay, darlin'?"

_Darlin'_. Fuck, I'm never going to get used to that.

"It's morning," I tell him, pulling the shirt on. "Your parents are roaming around somewhere."

"Alice, please come back," he pleads.

I make sure I'm fully clothed and do as he says, laying myself out over his chest. He runs his fingers through my short hair and smiles up at me.

"Hi," he whispers.

Something about his tone and the memories rushing back make me feel shy. I hide my face in his neck, muttering a "hi" in reply against his skin.

"I'm glad you're here," he tells me.

"Your parents, Jazz," I say, groaning in misery as I imagine what its going to be like to sneak out of his fucking house. "I should have left hours ago."

"You know, there are perks to being a cripple." I sit up to glare at him properly, offended by that particular depiction of himself. "Don't look at me like that. I'm mostly kidding. Except my parents pretty much let me do anything I want these days."

"So?" I ask, not getting what him being a spoiled brat has to do with our current situation.

"So," he replies. "I think you should probably join us for breakfast."

"That is insane," I tell him, staring at him blankly. I mean really, that is the stupidest fucking plan.

"It is not. They like you. I like you. I don't want you sneaking out a window," he says, grinning at me.

"Jasper, I don't care that your parents let you do whatever you want. Their church-going-asses are never going to be okay with me just joining the family for breakfast after spending the night with their son! It is just way to awkward. I vote window."

"There is no way they don't already know you're here," he says, frowning at me as I once again get up and start gathering my crap. "Do you really think my mom didn't peak in on me when they got home last night?"

I could probably count the number of times I've been really, truly embarrassed on one hand. This is definitely one of them. Although I don't know why I give a fuck what Jasper's parents think of me. All I know is that I do.

At least we were all covered up with a blanket on the couch. And Jazz was fully clothed. Neither of these facts makes me feel any better.

"I'm still going out the window," I tell him.

Fifteen minutes later, we are all dressed and standing by said window. Well, I'm standing. He's in his chair, obviously. It seems like neither of us wants to say goodbye.

"Will I see you later tonight?" he asks, grabbing my hand.

"Of course."

"I was hoping I could talk to your dad," he tells me. "I have a job offer to accept."

I beam down at him and kiss him quickly.

"Come over for dinner. Around 6:30. You can tell him then," I say.

* * *

**It'll get better. I promise. The poor dude has some serious spine issues, after all.**


	7. Questions Personal

**So this one is silly. No Jasper and Alice interaction. Tomorrow though, it's back to our favorite couple.**

* * *

In my first months in Dillon, I frequented this dive bar kind of a lot. I was moping and hating this place. I befriended several unscrupulous characters, high school drop outs and drug dealers and the like. They did not bring out the best of me, and I mostly stopped hanging out with them when Bella and Rose took me in.

I've never really had real friends before now. Especially not girl ones.

Now I'm back because I've got a whole lot of questions about what happened a couple nights ago with Jazz and this is the place to find the one person who has any answers.

I pause in the entryway and let my eyes adjust to the dingy light before spotting the person I need to see. I march on over there, startling him.

"Holy fuck, Alice," Peter says when I appear at his side. "How the fuck do you just appear like that? It's creepy."

I actually like Pete, even though he's a giant dick head. We got to know each other pretty well when I was visiting Jazz at the rehab center every day because they were sharing a room. Peter was there for what he called a "tune up." They have the same injury, only Peter has been living with his for six years.

"Can I have a word with you?" I demand. I'm aware of Peter's companions laughing at me, laughing at Peter because the little freak spooked him, but I don't care.

"Sure thing, Ali," he says, glancing around the table. "Have a seat."

"In private," I insist, scowling at his asshole friends.

We find an empty table in the corner, and I sit, bouncing my knee because I'm nervous.

"What's up, little lady?" he asks, bringing his mug of beer to his lips.

"You can have sex, right, Pete?" I ask without prelude.

He chokes on his beer, sputtering a little and staring at me like I'm crazy.

"You interested, Alice?" he asks when he gets a hold of himself. "Because that's pretty fucked up given what our boy has already been through with his last girlfriend."

I feel a little stab of hate for Bella and Edward. It's complicating, being as were friends and all.

"I'm not his girlfriend," I snap. I've never been a girlfriend before and the thought is terrifying. "And that's not why I'm here, you old pervert."

"Alice, you're freakin' me the fuck out. What's this about?" he demands, losing patience with me.

"Shit, this is awkward," I say, hiding my face in my hands. "But I really want to ask you some questions that might be a little bit personal in nature."

"Damn, I don't think I've ever seen you this flustered," he comments. "It's pretty entertainin'."

"Peter," I say with a groan.

"Do you want a drink? You look like you could use a drink," he says.

"No, I don't want a fucking drink," I spit out.

"Okay, okay. Easy there, girl. What happened?"

"Well, we kind of had a little mishap, if you will," I mutter, unable to meet his eye. I'm willing to bet my drawing hand that Jasper hasn't told Peter about what happened, hasn't asked any questions. He's too much of a macho man to admit to the problems he's having, even though Peter is probably a wealth of information of the subject.

That's why I'm here.

Even if it's fuck all uncomfortable.

"Oh, really?" Peter leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking at me. He's loving this, how uncomfortable I am. What an asshole.

"Yeah," I continue. I've never been particularly shy about the sex stuff, but it's different with Jasper. Everything is different with Jasper. "He… um… was having trouble staying at attention, if you know what I mean."

"Oh I know what you mean," replies Peter with a slight chuckle.

I hate his smirk.

"Okay, never mind. I thought I could count on you to take this fucking seriously but if not than fuck this. I'm out of—"

I rise halfway in my seat, ready to storm off.

"Calm down, Ali," Peter says, touching my wrist. His whole tone is different so I do as he says and sit back down. "It's just that I'm proud of my boy, is all. It's like he's all growed up. And I'm just thrilled that it's you and not that shameless floozy of a girl who cheated with his useless best friend."

"Well, I'm glad too. Now are you gonna help me or not?" I demand.

"Well, it just ain't gonna happen," Peter says, making my heart sink. "Not for awhile, anyway. He's like a newborn baby, you know. He's gotta re-learn everythin' and he's been doin' a bang up job so far but these things take time."

"Time," I murmur, wishing there was something more I could do. Not only do I want him now, I want him to be able to do it for him too. "_Time_."

"Yup. He's gotta figure out what works for him now. What turns him on."

Now I feel a little sick. What if I don't do it for him? What if he's not attracted to me?

"Relax, Alice. All the eye fuckin' that goes on between you makes the rest of us a little uncomfortable," Peter assures me.

I let out a big breath and slump over in my chair. This sure seems like a lot of hard work to get into some guys pants. And that's what it's about, right? That's all I want from him, right?

Yeah, it sounds like bullshit to me too.

"So, given the time, will he ever be able to… you know…." Again, I don't understand why I'm suddenly so hesitant to say what I mean.

"What, shoot fireworks?" Peter asks, teasing me again. Fuck his fucking smirk. I resist the urge to smack him.

"Well, yeah," I reply with a shrug, still embarrassed.

"Have super happy fun time?"

"Yes! Shit, Peter."

I think I'll fuckin' smack him.

"Yes," Peter replies with a chuckle. "He will. Probably. Most likely. Just maybe not every time. You okay with that?"

I only consider it for a second. What? I like sex. So fucking sue me.

"Yeah. That's okay with me," I reply. Peter nods, making me feel like I passed some sort of test. It's kinda cute, how he's protective of Jazz. I know Peter sees a lot of himself in Jasper. Before his own accident almost six years ago, Peter was a track star, all set to go to the Olympics and everything.

He once told me that he still runs in his dreams, so fast it's like flying.

Peter gets Jazz, that's for sure. Jasper really opens up to Peter, but only on occasion.

"Pete, can you talk to him maybe? Let him know it's not his fault? He didn't listen to me when I told him it's not his fault," I ask.

"You know all this is gonna piss him off right? When I bring it up and have to tell him how I even know about your little mishap, he's gonna be pissed that we talked about this at all," Peter warns.

"Yeah, I know. He'll get over it."

Peter goes back to his drink. I think hard on everything he's told me.


	8. Bigger in Texas

**Thanks for the lovely reviews. I don't own.**

* * *

"I should get back to my room," I murmur, making no move to leave.

Jasper mumbles something incomprehensible against my temple, pulling me close. I sigh in contentment. Never before have I felt this good, this relaxed.

We've been practicing for weeks, fooling around. Tonight we finally succeeded, and it was perfect. I saw stars. It's never been like that for me, not at all. Never before have I felt this close to someone before.

We're in Dallas now and I snuck out of the room I'm sharing with Coach to be here with Jazz. The Panthers have the big state championship game tomorrow. I only care because Coach and Jazz sure are nervous.

Nothing seems to matter to me in this moment, except this beautiful boy that snuck up on me. I just don't want to be away from him quiet yet, even though Coach could wake up at any moment and realize I'm not there.

"We did it, my Mary Alice," he whispers in my ear, making me giggle. I tangle my legs with his. Even though he can't feel it, his legs are still warm to me.

"If you didn't have to coach the biggest game of your life tomorrow, I'd want to try to do it again," I tell him.

Jasper grins, resting his palm against my face and kissing me tenderly, achingly. It scares me, what this boy makes me feel but it's too wonderful to stop now.

I end up falling asleep cuddled up against Jasper. Thankfully, I wake up before it's too late. Getting caught by Coach would surely put a damper on my blissed out state.

And we can't have no tension between members of the coaching staff on game day, now can we?

"Shit," I say, leaping out of bed when the words on the digital clock next to me finally make sense to my foggy brain. "Shit. Shit."

"Alice?" Jasper mumbles sleepily as I turn on the light. "What's wrong? What time is it?"

"Too late and too early all at once," I reply, scrambling into my clothes.

"What?"

"It's five thirty. I just pray Coach isn't up yet," I say, searching for my bra until I remember I didn't have one on when I accosted Jazz last night. I pause, grinning to myself at the memory.

"You're thinkin' about it," Jasper asks, sounding down right pleased with himself. "Aren't you?"

"Sure I am, babe," I reply, moving back to the bed to give him a quick kiss. "It was perfect."

"It was better than perfect."

"Do you need anything before I leave?" I ask him.

"Can you just move my chair closer?"

I do as he says, pleased that he'll accept my help, even if it is small

"Holy fuck," I say, having a revelation so startling I almost fall over in my panic. Jasper reaches out for my hips and stares at me in concern. "We didn't even use a condom! And I've been off the pill since I moved here! Of, fuck, we probably just made a baby. And you could have terrible, terrible STDs for all I know. What the fuck was I thinking? Or not thinking, I guess is more—"

"Alice," Jasper says, his voice loud and firm enough to get me to shut the fuck up. "Calm down. Of course I don't have anything. I've only ever been with one girl."

And that one girl sure as hell did not stay faithful. But Bella made it clear to me that once she started sleeping with Edward she didn't sleep with Jasper and I believe her. We are probably okay on the STD front.

"I'm clean too," I squeak out because it seems like a good moment to make this fact known.

"As for the baby bit…" He trails off, looking away. His expression hurts my heart and I hate that he is back to being sad. I don't want anything to make him sad.

"What is it, Jazz?" I ask quietly, sitting on the side of the bed and laying a hand on his naked chest.

"I can't have kids. It's pretty much impossible, according to every doctor I asked. You don't need to worry," he tells me, smiling sadly.

Oh, that is just terrible. He's lost so much, and I'm completely powerless to make it better.

I do the one thing I can, which is kiss him. But all too soon, I have to get up and leave.

"Thank you," he says as I stand up.

"What for?"

"For everything," he replies. "For not letting me wallow in self pity. For convincing me to coach. For not treatin' me like less of a person."

"Jeeze, you're making me blush," I say, looking away.

He pulls me down for another kiss. This goodbye is getting ridiculous.

"Thank you," I tell him when I pull away.

"What for?" he asks, smiling brilliantly.

"For late night," I say before I can really think it through. "You make me feel beautiful."

He kisses me again.

"You made me forget I can't walk," he replies.

Aw, shit. I'm so fucked over this boy its absolutely absurd.

* * *

When the Panthers win state, I forget that no one really knows about Jasper and me. He's been in the public eye for far too long, and I didn't want to deal with the ex-football hero dates Coach's weird as fuck daughter, brouhaha.

Plus, if people knew then so would Bella. I know she has Edward now, that they are officially together and in love, but still. Her mom just skipped town and it turns out she's broke. I didn't want to kick her whiles she's down, and I honestly have no idea how she'll react. I'm banging (as of last night!) he ex boyfriend. That's sure to cause some tensions.

Jaspers parents have obviously known from pretty much the moment we started doing whatever it is we're doing. Coach suspected enough to give Jasper the don't you fuck with my daughters heart talk a couple weeks ago.

But when the Panthers win state, the moment is too big to avoid celebrating with the people you love. The final seconds of the clock tick down, and we all feel a part of it, even me.

And I've never really felt a part of anything.

The hours we have to wait for the Panthers to arrive back in Dillon and then emerge from the bus are almost unbearable. Everyone cheers when my dad steps out of the vehicle.

I'm the first one to get to Coach, almost knocking him over with the force of my attack. His hug lifts me off the ground and he spins me in a circle, telling me glad I'm here for this. That he loves me. At this point I too may be guilty of shedding a tear or two. I know how important this was to him, how important these boys are.

I move away because everyone wants a piece of the winning coach.

Jasper is equally surrounded by players, coaches, and fans but when he sees me through the mass of bodies, his smile goes from ear to ear. He opens his arms, and how the hell am I supposed to not rush at him?

It's a good thing I'm so little or I may have upended is both, but instead I end up in his lap. It's just about my favorite place to be.

He laughs and kisses me, right there in front of all of Dillon. I'm sure the people around us react in some way, but I can't hear anything or think about anything when he's kissing me like that.

"I love you, Alice."

Now that I do hear. Loud and clear.

* * *

The team and the girls that follow them around end up at the Cullen's house after the victory parade through downtown Dillon. I thought I would have to convince Jasper to go – both because he takes his coaching seriously and because it's at the Cullen's house – but him seems edger to attend the festivities.

Everyone applauds when we enter through the front door. I hate the attention, and shift awkwardly next to Jazz, but he just gives a smile that somehow manages to be both cocky and bashful at the same time.

It's the facial equivalent of "aw, shucks."

Edward approaches Jasper, beer in hand, and I spot Bella across the room with Rosalie. I'm glad she here. It was just terrible how everyone treated her at school when the whole thing with Edward went public. It was like she had a fucking scarlet A tattooed to her forehead.

But she is here now. The Panthers won state and all sins seem to be forgotten.

"Hey," I say, feeling unbearably uncomfortable when I get to Bella. I really should have told her about Jasper. I mean, we are friends. And I've never really had a friend before but even I know not giving her a little heads up was a shitting thing to do.

"Hi," Bella says, smiling warmly at me.

I glance at Rose, wishing she would piss off and give us a minute of privacy. I'm nervous enough as it is without Rose's snark. Bella asks her to get us drinks and she begrudgingly moves away.

"So you and Jazz, huh?" she says, diving right in to it. I like this. No fucking unbearable small talk.

"Yeah… I should have fucking told you. I don't know why I didn't fucking tell you. It's just a fucking weird situation, but I'm sorry. I should have told you," I mumble, messing with the ends of my hair just for something to do with my hands.

"Alice, there's no need for any of that," she says, smiling and placing her hands on my shoulders. "I've figured something's been going on after I saw the way he looked at you after the game against the Rangers. I'm really happy for you guys. He deserves someone good like you, Alice."

Nausea rolls in my stomach. I'm choosing not to think about what he told me earlier today. Still, it's a lot of responsibility, letting someone care about you like that. I'm terrified I'll hurt him. I know I'll hurt him. I just know like I knew he wouldn't walk again. If I was a good person I'd break it off now.

But I can't. I just can't.

"Good? I don't know about that," I murmur, looking at Jasper across the room where he's surrounded by Panthers. Right where he belongs.

I can't imagine treating him like Bella did. At the same time I know that her and Jazz weren't ever really right. It couldn't have been easy for her with the whole town telling them they were perfect for each other.

"You really like him," Bella sat, catching me staring. "You like him the way I like Edward."

It's a statement of fact not a fucking question and I briefly consider throwing up on her shoes.

"Whoa, there," I say. "Lets not get ahead of ourselves. I mean, I like him, sure. He's fucking hot and interesting. And I like to be near him. And he isn't like anyone I've ever met. But I wouldn't go fucking saying I like him like you like Edward. Fuck, Swan. You're making me want to puke."

Bella hugs me and smiles. I scowl at her, staying stiff in her arms.

"Come on, Alice," she says, grabbing my hand as she releases me. "Let's go see Rosalie about those drinks."

* * *

Camping on Herrmann Field, home of the Dillon Panthers. This is Coach's domain and he would freak out about the drunken sleep over I'm having with my seven peers.

Still, kind of a genius idea. I'd much rather be having an adventure like this than packed in to an over crowded house party.

We sit in a circle on the 50 yard line. Jazz and I share a blanket. He's propped upright against his chair and several pillows.

Rosalie lights a joint, passing it around the circle. Bella hands it to me without smoking, and I bring it to my lips, inhaling deeply. I've missed weed. I've miss good, easy to get pot. It's definitely more difficult here unless you want to deal with some really unseemly characters.

I sigh happily before passing it to Jasper. He looks at it long and hard before shaking his head.

"You sure?" I ask, not understanding that somewhat bizarre response.

"I've never tried it before," he admits, looking embarrassed. This doesn't surprise me. Before the accident Jasper was very careful about what he put into his machine like body.

Now a little weed smoking doesn't seem too bad.

I get up, turning so I'm facing him with my knees on either side of his. I smile at him, feeling a little bit wicked. I like the way he looks at me in moments like this – like he can't quiet believe I'm with him. Like he is beyond lucky to have me.

I hope that's how he feels. If that were the case, we'd be even.

"Inhale as I exhale," I instruct quietly, pleased that no seems to really be paying attention to us.

I take a deep drag, pulling the smoke in to my lungs and holding it there for a moment before putting my lips close to his. We maintain eye contact as I breathe out and he breathes in all my second hand smoke. I smirk a little as he blows it back out, coughing once before grinning at me.

Emmett wolf whistles behind me, making some joke about Jasper never being sexier. Everyone laughs and Jazz smiles, but I don't pay them any attention. I silently hand the joint back to Rosalie, my eyes never leaving Jasper's.

I kiss him once more for good measure.

Everyone spreads out to go to sleep. Somehow everyone hard core enough to make it to the adventure portion of the evening is part of a couple.

Is that how I'm thinking about myself now? As part of a couple?

I sleep with my cheek on Jasper's chest and his arm around my waist. I push my feet between his legs because he keeps my toes warm, even if he can't feel it. We're buried under a pile of blankets because it's cold as fuck out here. Still, I never sleep better than I do with him. I wish we could figure how to do it more often.

* * *

"Alice." I open one eye, thinking that Jasper is trying to talk to me but he appears fast asleep. "Alice!"

I turn over, blinking at the light of the sun that's just coming up. On about blink three I see my dad there, looming over us with a scowl on his unnaturally handsome face.

"Oh, fuck," I mutter, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

"You want your tongue, missy," he scolds. "You're already in enough trouble as it is without you cursin' like a sailor."

I roll my eyes at my dad. He has a lot of bark but we both know there is not a lot he can do discipline wise. I'm just too independent. That would be Mary Jane's doing.

At least we are fully clothed.

"What are you doing here, Dad?" I ask, my voice croaky with sleep.

"I tell you what, the Whitlocks are just about worried sick. Neither of you are answerin' your phones! They called me in a panic and I promised I'd find y'all," Coach says, pretty damn flustered about the whole situation.

"Fuck," I mutter again, turning to wake Jazz.

"Alice," Coach warns.

"Jasper. Wake up, baby," I shake his shoulder a little. He mutters something and tries to pull me on top of him. I sigh and flick his ear.

"Ow!" he yells, sitting up to glare at me. But then he sees Coach and he screams a little. It's so feminine I can't help but giggle. Both men scowl at me and I lean over to kiss Jasper's nose.

Some of the people around me start to stir. Most remain dead to the world.

"You're in big trouble, Jazz" I say. Jasper looks at my dad and gulps audibly. I forget that even though my dad seems like a big teddy bear to me, his players both fear and respect the shit out of him.

Jasper is lucky that he's always been Coach's favorite.

"Alright, y'all." His booming coach voice rattles around in my head, indicating that I had a wee bit too much to drink last night.

Could have been the pot.

It was probably a combo.

"Get up and get off my field right this minute," he says, continuing to yell and scowl. His players jump right up, obviously terrified. Everyone else moves slower. 'Bunch of damn fools. Y'all better be outta here in ten minutes and I'll forget I ever saw any of this."

Fifteen minutes later the sun is fully up and we are pulling up into Jasper's driveway. The car ride is uncomfortably silent. I don't know what Coach is more irritated about, finding me asleep with his favorite pupil turned fellow coach or the fact that the Whitlocks woke him up in the middle of the night.

As we help Jasper into his chair, both Whitlocks come flying out of the house. There is hugging and then yelling as they bring Jasper back inside. He gives me a brief little smile as his parents continue to lecture him before pulling closed the front door.

"Sorry, Coach," I say as we get back in to the car.

"I know you can handle yourself, Alice," he mutters, pulling out of the driveway and heading towards home. "But don't do it again."

"I love you, Pop," I tell him, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

"Back at yah, kid."

* * *

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? **


	9. Far and Away

**So shit gets tough this chapter. This is were we pretty much totally break from the story line in _Under These Lights._ But that also means the start of some more angst. As always there is the promise of HEA.**

**I don't own Twilight or Friday Night Lights.**

**Thank you.**

* * *

"I'm not going out with you," I tell Jasper. I lounge on the couch in the small apartment he shares with Peter. They've been here a couple months, and he's doing really well on his own. Jazz is staring at his computer screen, unaware that I'm about to ambush him.

"What do you mean? I really want to see this movie and we're lucky it's even made it to our little theater at all," Jasper says. "So we could either do dinner before or after, being as it's showin' at six."

"Dinner and a movie," I mutter, shaking my head because he's still not listening to me. That was most certainly his biggest problem with Bella – right along with his selfishness and the whole her being in love with his best friend thing – but I don't let him get away with that shit and he's getting better.

Not that it matters at this point anyway. We're in June now. I leave at the beginning of August for Pratt in New York. We haven't talked about any of it, what happens when I leave, mostly because neither of us wants to think about it much at all. We've gotten really great at the whole avoidance thing.

But enough is enough. I'm fucking over it

"So what'll it be?" Jasper asks me, wheeling away from the desk and towards me. He reaches out, resting his hand on my stomach. I immediately grab hold of it, even though it's weak and will do nothing to harden my resolve to do what I have to do.

"Neither," I reply, sitting up and facing him. "I told you days ago. No more dating until we hash this whole thing out."

Jasper lets out a barking laugh, and I glare at him. "What in the hell is your definition of a date? Because when you spent the night last night it sure didn't feel like we ain't dating."

Yeah, withholding sex would probably be a more effective tactic but that is so totally not happening. Our time is limited, ticking away every second, and I find myself over here pretty much nightly. Coach has stopped trying to stop me. He just sighs and scowls a bunch.

"Jasper," I say, attempting to stay calm. I hate how upset the thought of leaving him makes me. It's unnatural – for me – and so totally against my plan, sometimes I hate myself for every getting involved with him. "What exactly do you see happening come August? Because this thing between us, whatever the hell it is, has been nice but it can't last with us a thousand miles apart."

Jasper so looks so damn hurt by my little spiel. I wince and feel so terribly ashamed.

"Whatever the hell it is?" he repeats, his voice raising in volume. Great, I've pissed him off. "Seriously, Alice? After everything, you won't even say it?"

"Say what?" This is miserable. I am such a miserable person.

"You're makin' it sound like a fuckin' fling or some shit. If you're gonna call it off at least give me the fuckin' curtasy to admit how you feel about me," Jasper insists.

I'm the only female that Jasper Whitlock seems to curse around. I asked Bella. Back when they were dating he really tried to keep it PG with those semi-misogynistic manners of his. Mostly I think this means he really knows me. Sometimes I think this means he doesn't see me as a real lady, just something of a freak.

"I don't want to break it off with you," I murmur, hating every minute of this. "But what other choice do we have? You're here in Dillon and I'm going to be in New York."

Jasper stares at the floor.

"Long distance never works," I say before he can speak. "It just doesn't."

"It could," he mutters.

"It won't."

What I don't say is that being away from him is already going to be unbearable. Talking to him all the time and pretending that we are a real couple until our inevitable end will kill me. It just will. Better to stop pretending, to recognize that we have an expiration date.

The silence that stretches is pretty unbearable in itself.

"I know you heard me." His voice is strong and abrupt, startling me a little.

"Heard you when?" I ask, having no idea what he's referring too.

"All those months ago, when we got home from State," he says, his eyes boring into me. It scares me, that look, and makes me want to change my mind even though I know I can't. "I told you I love you and I know you heard it."

The shame is back. I should never have gotten into this thing with Jasper, knowing how broken he was and continues to be, in some ways. From the very beginning I knew I couldn't be permanent for him, but I wanted him anyway.

So selfish.

"I heard you," I murmur, unable to hold his gaze.

"You could have said something back." Now his voice is breaking, unsure. I hate that I'm doing that to him, hurting him more.

"It wouldn't change anything," I say. "I'm still leaving."

"So, what? You want to just enjoy our time left, knowin' that we'll be over in a few months?" Jasper asks.

Fuck, it makes me sound like a cold bitch. I hate it, but what else can we do.

"It's not about what I want," I insist. "That's the only option for the future as I can see it. Either that or we end it now. If that makes it easier on you… well, then I understand."

I'll hate it. It might kill me, but I'll understand.

Jasper stays quiet for a long time. I study the floor as he studies me intently. He lets out a big sigh, and I know he's made some sort of decision.

"Come 'ere," he murmurs. I immediately crawl into his lap, burying my face in his neck and closing my eyes as he holds me close. "We'll savor our time."

I cry a little as I nod, hoping he doesn't feel my tears against my skin.

"I'll hate it, Jazz," I tell him. "I'll hate being away from you, but I have to go. I just have to."

We hold each other for a long time, savoring what we have left.

* * *

First day of classes. Lunchtime. I sit with five other people in the student center, staring morosely at my salad and not listening to the conversation around me and thinking about Jasper's hands.

"Alice? Are you alright?" Millie, my roommate, is talking to me. By the way everyone stares, I'd guess she was trying to get my attention for a while.

"What's up?" I ask, not bothering to answer her question. I'm not fucking all right and there's nothing I can do about it.

"You just came from Moore's class right?" another girl asks. Her hair is about sixteen different colors and I don't remember her name. She's Millie's friend from back home. And by back home I mean Manhattan.

"Yeah." One words answers. That's all I seen to be capable of at the moment. I'm not loving my first day at my dream school or bonding with people who seem like they should be my kind of people and it's all Jasper's fault.

I miss that motherfucker, damn him.

It's been thirteen days and roughly nine hours since I last saw him. Or even heard from him. I know calling the whole thing off when I left wouldn't have been his first choice, but he sees that it's the best. The only option because I could never stay in Dillon.

Still, I thought I would have heard from him.

No calls.

No texts.

No fucking e-mails.

I would even appreciate a good old-fashioned letter at this point.

And to be fair, I haven't contacted him either. But he's Jasper and I'm me. He's the one that should call. I'm the one that shouldn't care that he hasn't.

"Alice?"

Fuck, all five of my tablemates are staring at me again. Guess I zoned out.

"Yeah, fuck," I mutter, rubbing my eyes. "Sorry, what's going on?"

The creepy blond boy with the slicked back hair smirks at me. "We were asking how you like Moore. Irina and I have him in the morning. I've heard he's kinda a freak."

I stare blankly. To be honest my last professor failed to make much of an impression on me. Everything here is failing to make much of an impression on me. I resolve to try and engage. This is my life now, after all.

"He seems pretty down to earth," I reply with a shrug. "I've heard he's a genius."

Some one picks up the conversation and I'm thankful that I don't have to keep talking.

"So are you always this miserable?" the blond boy asks, voice low. I raise an eyebrow and wish I could smoke in here. It's a fucking art school and there is no smoking indoors. Ridiculous. "Seriously, why are you here if you hate it so much?"

I sigh and sit up in my chair, reminding myself to try.

"I don't hate it. It's the first fucking day of classes. I have yet to form an opinion. And you seem pretty goddamn nosey for some one so quick to pass judgment. I'm fucking shy."

For whatever reason this little rant only makes my companion grin.

"I like you, Alice," he says. "You're tough. I can tell."

"Thanks," I reply, having no idea what else to say to that.

"Seriously, let's be friends."

"I don't even remember your fucking name," I confess, not managing to feel guilty about it.

"James."

"All right, James," I reply, feeling my phone vibrate in my bag. I rummage around, having a hard time finding it. "I'll give you a trial run."

James may or may not reply. I can't focus on anything else after I see Jasper's name lighting up my phone. I stare at it shock for a little second before rushing to answer before I miss the call.

"Hi!" I squeak, the relief apparent in my voice.

"Hey, baby," he says. I close my eyes and let that smooth Texas twang of his wash over me. "How's the first day?"

"Not quite over yet." I've gone from moping to grinning like an idiot. My new friend James has definitely notices and he looks at me in confusion. "Long time no phone call here, buddy."

"I know," he says with a sigh. "I didn't want to crowd you. Wanted to let you get all settled in. We did break up, after all."

"I know," I reply, sounding like a petulant child.

"Don't be sad," he says quietly. "It's what you wanted."

"It's not what I fucking wanted, okay?" I say for the thousandth time. "Can we please not do this again?"

A beat of silence. "I'm sorry. So are you eating lunch right now? Are you in a cafeteria? You know I've toured a college or two in my day so I have a nice little image of where you're at in my head."

I smile, thankful that he's changed the subject even though I feel a little stab of pain about the future that Jasper could have had. We talked about it, him going to college but he claims it's not for him. I think it would just make him too sad. He is taking online classes from Dillon Tech. He says he feels too much like a spectacle in a classroom environment.

"Wait, how did you know I would be at lunch?" I ask, suddenly suspicious.

"I may have convinced your dad to give me a copy of your schedule," Jasper admits.

"Shit, dude. That's creepy." Except I don't mind at all. I'm fucking pleased that I'm on his mind.

"Is not. I bet you know right where I am this very moment."

"School? The locker rooms? At your desk? Preparing for practice? How are those Panthers looking this season?"

"Not bad. Cheney's turning in to quite the leader but we lost a lot of talent last year. The press keep callin' it a rebuilding year. It sure does make your dad angry," Jasper says, chuckling slightly.

I giggle.

I miss him so much and abruptly go silent. This isn't really awkward, but we still haven't really figured out how to navigate this either. We may be broken up but it doesn't feel like we are broken up.

"Do you need to go? Am I ruining that whole makin' new friends thing you're doing?" he asks, sounding so terribly sad it rips my heart out.

"No," I reply, too fast. That desperation in my voice is not attractive. "I'm just eating with a few people. My roommate, Millie, she's pretty cool."

Hearing her name, she turns to look at me. I give her a smile but offer no explanations as to who's on the phone. I haven't told her about Jasper. It's like I want to keep him all to myself.

"I'm glad you like your roommate. You'll have to tell me all about her when she's not sitting right there. It could be awkward."

I laugh a little. He plans on talking to me again. Thank baby Jesus.

"Any other great new people in your life, Mary Alice?" he asks.

"Well, I'm sitting next to this kid James who says we're friends but we're only shared about six words, half of which were profanities on my part."

James smirks at me. I expect Jasper to chuckle, but there is just silence.

"Jazz? You still there?" I ask, confused about what just happened.

"Sorry, honey," he says. "Look, Mac's here so I gotta get off the phone."

Stupid fucking Coach Mac. The dude may be one of my dad's best friends but in this moment I'm definitely not a fan.

"Okay," I say, unable to hide my disappointment. "Tell Mac I say hi."

"I will."

"Are you going to call me again? Soon?"

"Of course," he murmurs. "And you can call me too, you know."

I wince, feeling a little be bad about that.

"I know. Hey, maybe skype next time? I really want to see you," I say, realizing I don't sound very much like an ex.

"I'd really like that."

"Good."

"Bye, Alice. I lov—" He cuts off abruptly and that sharp pain is back in my chest. "I miss you."

"I miss you too."

Hanging up leaves me feeling happier and sadder at the same time.

It takes me longer than it should to realize that my new friend James is staring at me with that same stupid smirk.

"What?" I snap, glowering at him.

"Boyfriend?"

I just scowl.

"You want him to be your boyfriend?"

More scowling.

"He used to be your boyfriend?"

At his correct guess it gets harder to maintain the scowling. "He's my fucking muse, okay?" I say, not realizing it's true until I say it. "I'm obsessed with his hands."

James laughs but I don't know what's so funny.

* * *

**I know, I know. And they were so happy last chapter. Don't worry, we'll get back there. It just won't be particularly easy.**

**Review?**


	10. Trying

**Everyone is going to hate me for this chapter. There's no Jasper and too much James. I'm going to try to get chapter 11 up tonight to make up for it.**

**Thank you for reading. I don't own nothin'.**

* * *

"No. Fuck no."

"Come on, Alice. Don't be such a prude. You're supposed to be an artist. How can you expect models to sit for you if you aren't even willing to do the same yourself," James says as we walk back to the dorms. My mom, Mary Jane, and her baseball-playing husband Phil were in town and had us over for a meal in their Manhattan penthouse. They aren't there very often and wanted me to live there this year, but I wanted to full college experience.

M.J.'s current passion is cooking foreign foods. Tonight it was Moroccan. It was shockingly good.

"You aren't a fucking model," I point out. We've been having this same argument for the last week. At first I thought he wasn't serious. Now I'm not so sure.

"But I could be. You do me, I'll do you." I can tell by his smirk that that double entendre was purposeful.

I shove him but he's so tall it doesn't do any harm.

"I don't want to paint you." That's mostly a lie. I would paint him. His blond hair and long limbs remind me of Jazz. There is something wrong about painting James because Jasper isn't here. Plus, his hands are all wrong.

"But you have no objections to doing me," he says with total confidence. I roll my eyes and walk in angry silence for another block.

"It would be seriously tasteful," James says. "I could just do your back. Just the top little part of your ass peak out above clean white sheets."

He runs his all wrong hand down my spine, coming to rest at the top little part of my ass. I give an involuntary shiver.

I want to blame my reaction on the cold fall weather, but that's not it. All the wine with dinner and our brisk pace is keeping me warm.

It's been a long time since some one has touched me like this. I close my eyes and pretend it's someone else with the right hands, but that feels wrong.

I'm confusing and frustrating myself. It's all so exhausting.

Still I don't move away when he drapes his arm over my shoulders as we enter our building and then the elevator. James has been a really good friend to me the last couple months.

And I promised myself I would try, right?

It's late and there is no one around so I let James push me into the wall when we get into the elevator. With arms on either side of my head, he looms over me and cages me in.

It makes me feel small. I don't particularly like feeling small.

"Seduction is a sure way to get what I want," James says, his voice low. I close my eyes and let my head rest against the wall.

"And what exactly is it that you want?"

"You." His breath is hot against my lips and I know he's so close. Still, I don't move – not towards him, not away.

"In my bed." A soft kiss against my cheek. Another shudder from me.

"On my canvas." A kiss on my chin. A whimper caught in my throat.

"Grabbing my hair as you ride me." His hands cradle my face. My hands fist in his black t-shirt. I need something to hold on too. The anticipation of warm lips on mine makes my knees quake.

So long. So long since I've been touched.

And I need to be touched. I promised myself I would try to survive and act like a normal person in this world without Jasper.

I tilt my face up towards his without opening my eyes. It's the first move I've ever made to signal that this is okay. That this is what I want.

Is this what I want?

He kisses me then, slow and hard. I decide not to let myself think.

We kiss and it's fine. It's pleasant. It's like what I always thought kissing was like before I had Jazz.

In this moment I'm so worried that Jasper ruined me for anyone else that I push my hands into James hair and really give it my all. I need to prove to myself that I made the right decision. That everything will be okay. That what I had with Jasper wasn't all that special.

He likes it. He groans.

It's not bad for me either.

Time feels strange. I'm not sure how much of it passes before he pulls away slightly, still keeping me trapped. His breathing is heavy. I'm a little surprised to find that mine is too.

"This was fucking inevitable," James tells me. "From the moment you sat your cute little ass down next to me, I knew we'd end up here."

I open my eyes for the first time in a long time. I'm not sure I like the sound of that. James is one self-assured motherfucker. Of course he'd be cocky enough to think he'd get me here.

And he called me cute. That makes me feel small too.

"My roommate's out of town," he murmurs, smirking at me. He takes my hand and presses the elevator button to his floor. He doesn't ask, he just assumes.

And I let him.

The moment we get into his room, he's on me – pulling both our shirts off, kissing my neck, digging his all wrong hands into my hips.

And I let him. Part of me even enjoys it. That's the part I try to focus on even while the rest of me is screaming.

He pushes me back into his door, dropping to his knees in front of me. With his mouth on my bare stomach and his hands under my skirt and his head lower than mine, I can pretend he's the one I want.

I close my eyes and let myself indulge in the fancy for one moment until the guilt and betrayal gets too be much. Because no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, this feels like betrayal to the boy I left in the town I hate.

He pulls my skirt down my hips. And I let him. I even help, steadying myself with hands on his shoulders as I step out of the garment. He nuzzles my navel before going lower. When I realize his intent I react without thinking, pulling a little too hard on his hair.

"No," I hiss.

"No?" he asks, eyes shinning in the dark. His features are too sharp to pass as Jazz, despite the blond hair and long limbs.

He's naked. When did he get naked?

"Not that." Too much. Too intimate.

Without saying anything, James abruptly stands. He hauls me up and off my feet, pushing my back against the door. I let out a little scream, startled by this sudden movement. James laughs at my response.

"What?" he asks, lips at my neck, hand on my right tit. I can feel him between my legs as my thighs automatically tighten around him. It could be so easy, to just close my eyes and try. "Didn't your muse ever take you standing up?" he growls, teeth dragging against the pulse point of my neck. "What was he thinking?"

Just like that, I know I can't do this. I tense all over. James looks up at me, confused.

He doesn't understand why his teasing statement is so wrong. I've never told him about Jasper. He's asked many questions, but I never gave him much. Nothing about the accident.

Of course Jazz and I never did it standing up.

James is trying to kiss me again. I feel him hot and hard and naked and sliding against me. I resist the urge to panic.

"Stop," I say, hating how breathless I sound.

"Alice? Shit, we should probably get a condom, huh?" he says, making me feel worse. How stupid am I? To busy trying to do this single girl college thing to even think about safe sex.

"No," I say, voice slightly stronger now. My back hurts. The bumps of my spine rub painfully against the hard door but I'm too scared to make the wrong move, to bring parts together that I absolutely do not want to be together.

"No? Fine by me," James says. I can hear the smirk in his voice. He slides against me again, stopping only when I shove at his shoulder.

"No, I mean no!"

He freezes, staring at me for a long moment. And for the first time I'm scared. Terrified that he won't listen. I'm so vulnerable like this. Such a fucking moron to let it get this far.

He is so much bigger than me.

"No." His repetition of my word is low and harsh and angry.

With his looks and charm, James probably isn't used to hearing no very often.

"Put me down, please."

He doesn't move for another long moment before doing what I say. Immediately I duck around him, pulling on my shirt and locating my skirt.

"I'm sorry," I murmur. That's the truth. I am so sorry for so many reasons, the main being that I just ruined everything with my best friend here at Pratt.

"What the fuck was that?" He's angry. He has every right to be angry. I couldn't have changed my mind at a worse possible moment.

"I don't know," I say. Tears threaten behind my eyes. James sits on his bed, pulling a pillow over his lap to cover up. "I just… I just can't."

"Can't?" demands James. "Or won't?"

A pause. "Both," I reply. "Either. Does it matter?"

He doesn't reply.

"I am so sorry. I should never have let it get that far. I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's your fucking muse, isn't it?" he asks.

I give a terse nod.

"Just leave, Alice," he says, looking away.

"But—"

"Now!"

I manage to hold off the tears until I get to my room. I cry myself out, call Bella, and then cry myself out all over again as Jasper's ex listens.

* * *

**Yuck, I know but at least she stopped. I won't do anything like this again. I promise.**


	11. Gone, Gone, NYC

**This one got long on me.**

**As promised...**

* * *

"Hey, M.J," I say, trying to hold all my bags, talk on the phone, and walk at the same time. "I'm just getting to your building. Can we just talk when I get up there?"

Thanksgiving break. Finally. After three miserable weeks of James avoiding my gaze and me avoiding the whispers from the rest of our friends, I need these days off more than I've ever needed a break before.

Pratt doesn't give us the whole week off. If they did I would have been on a plane to Dillon. To Jazz, the only thing that really has any chance of making it better. Not that I have any plans on telling him what happened with James. What would the point be? We aren't together. I'm here and he's in Texas. It would just hurt him for no reason.

"Ah, yes," says my mom, sounding guilty. "About that. Something came up."

"Fuck, Mom," I groan, nodding a thank you to the doorman as I walk into the lobby of the building. "Am I going to be all alone for the holiday? I would have made other plans if—"

"Relax, Mary Alice," she says, cutting me off. "We'll be there tomorrow morning. And this year we're doing Mexican food. You know how I hate this holiday."

I haul myself into the elevator, rolling my eyes.

"Yes, Mom."

She feels like she's protesting the hypocritical message of Thanksgiving if she doesn't prepare traditional food.

"We wouldn't do anything special but it's the only time you have off."

"I know, look I'm getting in the elevator now. I'll see you tomorrow."

I'm used to my mom's flighty behavior. At least this time she's actually going to show up.

I hope.

And a night all alone, the apartment all to myself, doesn't sound too fucking bad.

When the elevators opens right into the living room I notice half the lights turned on. I shake my head, thinking about how much my mom claims to love the environment. She can't even manage to save a little energy.

I walk down the hall, dumping all my stuff off right outside the door of the bedroom designated as mine.

Fuck, I'm hungry. Hopefully there is some leftover that has yet to go bad in the fridge. I'm almost to the kitchen when if becomes very clear that I'm not alone.

"Hey, baby."

I freeze. For one terrible moment I think I've finally gone completely crazy. But then I turn slowly on my heel to see him, looking nervous next to the fireplace.

How the fuck did I miss him earlier? What is he doing here? How did he get in? Am I seeing things?

"You okay?" he asks gently.

His words snap me out of my stupid fucking little trace, but I still can't mange to say anything. I bound across the room, flinging myself into his lap and almost upending up both.

My arms lock around his neck and I realize I'm crying full body sobs.

"Alice!" Jasper says, holding me close. "Are you okay? Fuck, why are you cryin'?"

I try to explain that these tears are the happy kind, but nothing comes out. He tries to pull me off him, to get a good look at my face, but I hold firm. Jasper makes soothing noises, running his hands up and down my back. He kisses my temple.

He's here. He's really right here, holding me.

After at least thirty years of this, my sobs calm to hiccups.

"Alice," he asks when I move my head to his shoulder. I suddenly have to look at him. One of those perfect hands cradles my cheek, and I almost loose it again. "Are you all right?"

I nod. "I'm just so happy!" I manage, my voice raspy. "I can't believe you're here. Why are you here? How did you get here?"

My hands are on his cheeks. His hands are on my cheeks. We stare at each other like it won't ever be enough because it probably won't. Jasper wipes away my tears, looking like he almost shed a few himself.

"They let cripples on planes too, you know," he says.

"Jasper," I scold.

"I wanted to surprise you. Didn't like the idea that I wouldn't get to see you till Christmas. I've been talking to your mom. She helped me pull the whole thing off."

"Mary Jane helped you?" I ask, totally shocked. "That woman has never been able to keep a secret in her life."

"I think she likes me. So this is okay? You're okay with this? With me being here?" he asks, those nerves back.

"Yes, of course. I'm always thrilled to see you," I say, grabbing his hands like I'm scared he'll just disappear. Still, I get the question. I haven't seen him since our painful goodbye in Texas in August. "How long are you here?"

"Sunday evening."

I squeak and hug him again because in this moment that seems like a long time, even if it's not.

"Don't you have a game?" I ask.

"Not this week."

Right. I knew that.

"So you left Coach all alone?" I ask, teasing him.

"He ain't alone. He's sending tomorrow with Charlie and Bella and Esme. Edward couldn't go home. Football and whatnot," Jazz says. I really only hear one word.

"Esme? Who the fuck is Esme?"

Jasper looks downright guilty.

"You know, Ms. Platt? She works at the school?" I have about a million questions but Jazz won't be spilling the beans. I Iet him change the subject. "You look beautiful today, Alice. A real sight for sore eyes."

I roll my eyes and blush a little.

He strokes my cheekbone with his thumb, and somehow my lips end up against his. It's chaste and soft at first. Quite and simple. Still it makes my heart explode. I want so much more. His tongue touches mine, so sure. Like we do this all the time. Like we never stopped.

But we did stop. We stopped because I'm here and he's there and long distance never works. But even knowing all that, it doesn't change the way I feel about him.

I pull away and get up because I shouldn't have done that. It's not fair to either one of us.

"So dinner? Have you ever had Thai food? They do this crazy thing where they deliver it and everything. This isn't some hick town in Texas, after all," I say, teasing him.

His easy grin replaces this brief look of disappointment, so I know we are okay.

* * *

Dinner is tense for me, although Jasper doesn't seem to notice. He talks easily about Dillon, about the Panthers. Asks me questions about my life here. I answer the best I can when I'm so damn distracted by his hands and how much I want him. He talks about Edward, not telling me anything new really because Bella keeps me in the loop. Still it makes me smile, warms me up, that he has his best friend back. It took a really long time, but sometime between winning State and finally hashing everything that happened between them, Jasper has managed to let go of some of that hurt.

"Then Ed starts complainin' about the difficulty in being a bus ride away from his lady. That's when I lost patience. He has no idea how good he has it, how lucky he is," Jazz continues, frowning.

I frown back because Jasper and I are definitely not lucky. I've considered it about a thousand times, just staying in Texas. But we both know it's not an option. I would end up resenting him for all I gave up. And after everything he lost I can't exactly ask him to leave his home.

I scoot a little closer to him on the couch, tucking my legs beneath me and reaching out to Jasper. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and he sighs.

"We'd be together right now," he murmurs. I wonder if this sadness is going to taint everything we do this break. We managed to ignore it last summer, right up until the very end. "If it weren't for the distance."

"We are together right now and there's barely any distance." My answer isn't really an answer. I'm being evasive.

"Alice. You know what I'm gettin' at. If we lived in the same place, we'd be together still. Together, together. It's not a normal break up. It's just geography and that makes it harder."

I sigh and line our hands up. His fingers curl over mine.

"Yes," I begrudgingly admit. Talking about it this thing might make it easier for Jasper, but it doesn't for me. Not at all. "But I don't really see the point of dwelling on the what ifs. I'm here. You're there."

Jasper nods his head. There really isn't anything else to say. We've had this conversation countless times.

"But it's hard, complicated," Jasper says, tightening his grip on my hand. "We talk on the phone, video chat, all that so much. And here I am, showin' up like this. Flying half way across the country. You're so happy to see me."

"I know," I murmur, resting my forehead against his shoulder and closing my eyes. "We'll figure it out, how to still be in each other's lives now."

Neither of us are convinced by my words.

He leans over, kissing me. Again it's slow, meant to comfort. That heat and desperation I feel too isn't something we have any control over.

"We shouldn't," I say, making no move to pull away from him. His lips hover millimeters from mine. "It would be easier if we didn't."

"You're probably right about that," he agrees, sounding frustrated. "But we both know that we'll spend half my time here tryin' to keep things platonic and that eventually we'll fail. And then we'll just end up regretting that we didn't spend as much time as possible in bed."

I shiver. I want it. I want him. And he's probably right about his trip playing out that way.

Fuck, I can't do it without telling him. I fucking have to tell him about James, as much as I don't even want to think about it. He's going to hate me and deservedly so.

"So let's just skip all the games, all the avoidin'. I want you. You want me," he continues, lips against my neck.

Abruptly I push myself away from him, scrambling back until we aren't touching anymore. Jazz looks at me with disappointment and sadness. I hide my face in my hands, having no idea how he's going to react.

"Have you been with anyone else?" I ask. I don't really want to know the answer, but not quite brave enough to straight up tell him what happened with James a month ago.

"Of course not." His immediate response makes me feel worse. It almost would be better if confessed to sleeping with some former rally girl.

Almost.

I look at him and I can see the moment he realizes what I'm trying to tell him by the way his whole face falls.

I should have never gotten involved with Jasper Whitlock. He's already been hurt so much and all I've done is make it worse. I hate hurting him. Hate it. But I just couldn't stop. Still can't.

We're quiet for a drawn out moment. I'm not sure what to do. If he wants details. I didn't actually have sex, but hearing how close I got probably would do nothing to make him feel better. I watch as he seethes in silence.

Hurt and angry. That's what I've done to him.

"When?" he asks.

"About a month ago."

"Did you…" His jaw is clenched as he scowls down at his fists in his lap. His whole body radiates tension and anger. I bet it feels like Bella all over again.

I'm a fucking terrible person.

"No," I assure him, understanding what he needs to know without all the words. "Close. But no."

"How close?" he demands. This is the first time he's looked at me since the beginning of this conversation. The strength of his glare has me cowering slightly and hating myself a fucking lot.

"Um… Uh… touching. And uh, some almost nakedness. But no, uh… you know… penetration or orgasms." That was probably poor word choice. Jasper punches a pillow a lot and takes a minute to clam down even though it could have been so much worse.

"You know, I could have," he says, starting at the ground. "The whole crippled town hero angle is pretty easy to work, but I didn't. I didn't even want to because even though we ain't really together, I feel like we're together. Guess I'm fuckin' alone in that."

"You're not alone in that," I say, rapidly shaking my head. "Why do you think I stopped?"

More silence.

"Why do it then?" he asks, sounding more sad than angry now.

"I'm not… I don't totally know. It's like I was trying to prove to myself that life without you was possible. And I was lonely. I am lonely. I love school. I love the city, but being away from you is so much harder than I thought it would be."

More silence. Silence for a long time.

"Who was it?" Jasper asks. I wince, not liking to remember. I really fucked up with this one, hurting two people in one almost hook up.

"My friend, James."

More pillow punching. A whole lot of cursing. A few "I fucking knew its."

"I am so sorry, Jasper," I mutter. "It was such a mistake. On so many levels. Mostly because the whole time and ever since it's felt like this huge betrayal to you. A huge betrayal to how I feel about you."

My eyes dart around his face.

"Jazz, I think… I know… I mean, I'm pretty sure I—"

"Don't," he says, interrupting me. "If this is the moment you first tell me you love me, I think I might really lose it."

I blink at him. Was that what I was trying to say? Is this what love feels like? I look at his hands and finally admit I've been lying to myself pretty consistently for the last year.

"Okay," I reply.

More silence.

"What now?" I finally gather the courage to ask. "Do you want to leave? Are you going to go back to Dillon early?"

"Do you want me to?" he asks.

"Absolutely not."

"Well, it costs a pretty penny to change a ticket." I nod in relief. "And you didn't actually have sex."

"No. I didn't. I couldn't. Turns out I didn't want to."

More silence. So much silence I need to escape it. I need to crawl into bed and cry all this out.

"It's late," I say, standing. "Let me show you to the guest room."

"Alice," he says, grabbing my hand. He doesn't speak until I look at him. A few tears roll down my cheeks. "I'm not gonna tell you it's okay 'cuz it ain't. But I'll get over it. Give me the night and I'll get over it. Technically you didn't even do anything wrong. You're a single gal, after all."

He is so shockingly understanding, I can't do anything but nod down at him in wonder.

"I want to sleep next to you," he says. "I'm not here for very long and I hate myself a little bit for wanting to be near you, but fuck that. I'm gonna do what I want."

"Okay," I say, feeling a little dizzy as all these conflicting emotions run through me.

"Just keep your hands to yourself, little lady."

* * *

Jasper is much quicker to forgive than I would be in the same situation. After everything he went through this time last year, I thought he would be hyper sensitive to a similar type of betrayal, even if the situation couldn't be more different. It almost seems the opposite is true. Like the accident changed his priorities. Taught him to hold on to the important parts.

Like me and him.

It has me rethinking this whole break up as the only option business.

In the morning I take him to Central Park. He marvels at the buildings and comments on all the people everywhere. I laugh because the city feels relatively empty being as it's Thanksgiving.

I think about taking him to the parade, but it would be a nightmare to navigate with his chair. Plus, parades are fucking lame.

He makes me sit on the Alice and Wonderland statue in the Park so he can take a picture. When I look over his shoulder at the picture he surprises me with a kiss. It makes me happy and I think everything might be okay.

When we get back M.J. and Phil are home. My mom's already in the kitchen. The apartment is filled with delicious smells, although definitely not the traditional kind. M.J. hugs Jazz like they're old friends before giving him a lecture about why Thanksgiving is terrible, American colonialism, and the genocide of the American Indian.

He's a good sport about it even though I can tell he has no idea how to respond to my liberal hippie mother. There's no one like her, in Dillon or elsewhere.

After dinner and many rounds of margaritas I demand Jasper comes with me to bed. He gets all embarrassed and tries to be a gentlemen, telling my parents he'll take the guest room.

"Why on earth would you do that?" Mary Jane asks, genuinely perplexed by this.

"Just want to respect the rules of the house, ma'am," Jasper replies, blushing slightly. It makes me giggle. M.J. is so different than Coach, it's a miracle they were together long enough to conceive me at all.

This type of conservative thinking is about as foreign to M.J. as having parental permission to sleep with me is to Jazz.

"Just don't knock up my baby!" M.J. calls as we get to my room. She's just messing with Jazz at this point. "I'm to young to be a grandma!"

* * *

"Oh, say something else won't you, Jazzy?" Eric pleads, resting his hand on Jasper's forearm. At first poor Jazz looked pretty uncomfortable with Eric's flamboyantness. I wonder if this is the first time Jasper has ever spoken to someone openly gay. Very few are brave enough to come out in Dillon. But now after a few drinks, Jazz doesn't seem to mind. "That accent is just to die for."

Eric and Irina are absolutely fawning over him. How could they not with those all American good looks of his? Watching him fit in here with these people despite how much he shouldn't fit in warms me up.

I sit back, nursing my beer, and watch the show.

"I ain't the one with an accent here," Jazz replies, turning the twang on thick. "Y'all are the ones who talk all funny."

We all laugh and I catch sigh of Millie, searching us out in the crowded bar. I wave her over.

"So you must be the famous Jasper," says my roommate, leaning down to kiss his cheek. She does the same to me before sitting down next to Irina. "I recognize your hands. You know Alice is obsessed with them, right?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Jasper says, winking at her. I roll my eyes because he is just so painfully charming.

"Naughty!" Eric says joyfully.

I pour Millie a beer from the pitcher as my friends continue to quiz Jasper on what Texas is like. They make it sound like a totally different planet, which is partially true. But living there I learned one thing for sure. Texas is full of people, just like anywhere else.

I drown out the conversation, choosing instead to watch Jasper. He is so relaxed and happy, even in this New York City club that is a far cry from the dive bar in Dillon.

Abruptly I lean over and kiss him, lingering against his lips even as my friends start wolf whistling at us. Eric breaks out into Marvin Gaye and that's when I have enough.

"Shut the fuck up, Yorkie, you cock-blocking queen," I yell at him. He laughs and muses up my hair. I do the same back and he looks genuinely offended.

"So you two are dating?" asks Irina as I glare daggers at her. "Or you were dating? I'm confused."

"It's complicated," I mutter. Everyone watches me carefully.

"They're fucking," Eric says like he has any idea at all. "What's complicated about that?"

"Can we change the subject please?" I ask, pissed at everyone, myself included because I don't have any answers.

"Why would we do that?" asks Millie, giggling. "It's fun making you mad."

Everyone, Jasper included, agrees.

"She's crazy in love with me," Jasper explains, leaning back in his chair and looking like a cocky little shit. I groan and whack my forehead into the tabletop. Everyone ohs and aws.

"Who knew Alice was such a softy?" Irina muses.

I scowl at her before whispering in Jasper's ear. It's loud enough in here that we have a little bit of privacy.

"If you make me tell you I love you for the first time in front of these assholes, I think I might really lose it," I tell him, made brave by alcohol.

He stares at me like he wants to eat me. If I was Bella I'd be blushing like a motherfucker right now. Instead I just kiss him, having to hold back an embarrassing groan when his hand clutches at my neck and his tongue moves against mine.

And then…

"Oh fucking finally," Eric shouts. "There's my man. What's he doing with James? I thought he went home and wouldn't be back until Sunday."

Oh fuck.

At the mention of the name, Jasper jerks away from me. I watch him follow Eric's gaze, his eyes narrowing when he sees the boy I almost had sex with a month ago.

"Guess not," mutters Millie. I can feel her staring at me but I'm too busy staring at Jasper, gauging his reaction.

Scowls look almost unnatural on Jasper.

"Oh, fuck," I say as Eric jumps up to great Laurent. They've been together since they were fifteen. They are the resident fairy tale couple. Everyone greets the new additions as Jasper crosses his arms over his chest.

Finally, because I know I have too, I look up to see James staring at me intently. I would have never fucking brought Jazz here if I had any idea that James would show up.

"Hello," I say cautiously. "Guys, this is Jasper," I say, addressing both boys. "Jazz, this is Laurent and uh… James."

Fuck this is so fucking awkward.

They all shake hands. I can tell neither Jasper or James has any desire to do so. Everyone shuffles around, pulling up chairs. I end up between James and Jazz. Irina gives me a smirk and I think she planned this just to make me sweat.

Sadistic bitch.

James looks at Jasper. His eyes widen when he sees the chair.

James voice, husky and low with lust, echoing in my head.

_Didn't your muse ever take you standing up? What was he thinking?_

James looks at me. I can't read his expression. There is a mixture of anger and shock there, that's for sure.

"So how do you know Alice?" Laurent asks. We're not very close so he doesn't know anything about Jazz and he's just trying to be polite.

"Home," Jasper replies, grabbing his beer off the table. He holds the glass between two fists. James is looking at his hands.

"I thought you were from the city, Alice?" Laurent asks me, confused.

"Originally," I tell him even though everyone else already knows. They have their own conversation. James stays silent. "I lived in Texas for a year with my dad, did my senior year there."

"Texas. Wow," replies Laurent. "How do you like New York, Jasper?"

The two make small talk and I try to ignore the tension radiating from both Jazz and James. I'm trapped in a tension sandwich. Jasper may seem totally relaxed to everyone else, but I know better.

I try to figure out a way to get us out of here fast, but Jazz seems to be ignoring me, all his attention on Laurent.

Jasper rests a permanently curled hand against my bare thigh. My fingertips run over the skin on the back of his hand. Laurent turns to talk to Eric. Jasper turns to talk to me, his lips right at my ear.

"Well, this night suddenly took a turn for the worst," he mutters. I look up at him, trying to let him know how sorry I am with my eyes. "Does he know about me?"

I nod. Jasper looks down at me, his expression dark before he kisses me, hard. I'm surprised for a moment, but then I understand. He's still Jazz, after all. He's still a fucking man. This kiss is more about proving I'm his, staking a claim. This kiss is about James, not us. I don't particularly like it, but I let Jasper get away with it.

If this fucking makes him feel fucking better than I'll fucking do it.

Still, we are with all my friends in a public place so it doesn't last too long. Jasper gives me a final chaste kiss on my bottom lip before going back to his beer.

"We should go," I tell him. But he gets roped into another conversation with Eric.

Millie and Irina drag me to the bathroom. Jasper nods, indicating that he'll be okay. I leave reluctantly.

"You've been holding out on us, Ali," Millie scolds. "I thought you broke up."

"We did," I mutter.

"It sure as fuck didn't look like it," she continues.

"Please, Mill," I say with a sigh, suddenly so tired. "I'll let you know as soon as I figure it out."

"What's with the chair?" Irina asks bluntly as we join the long line for the bathroom.

"What's with the chair?" I repeat, already getting defensive. "He can't fucking walk. That's what's with the chair."

"Yeah, I got that," she replies. "Why didn't you tell us about it? Are you embarrassed about it or something?"

I stare up at her in shock for a moment.

"I'm not embarrassed." I'm not the best at sharing the personal stuff. Honestly, I never even thought about talking about the chair with my new friends. It just didn't come up.

When I think of Jasper, wheelchair bound doesn't even enter my head.

"Then why keep it a secret?" Irina asks.

"She didn't keep it a secret," Millie interjects. "She might not have mentioned it but there are a couple picture in our room of Jasper. It's pretty obvious that he's in a wheelchair."

"Can he even have sex?" Irina asks, being a complete bitch.

"Yeah, fuck this," I say. "Mill, I'm gonna head out. See you Monday."

I give her a quick hug before exiting the bathroom. I start picking my way back through the crowd towards Jasper, but a hand on my elbow stops me.

"James," I say with a groan. "Can we not do this right now?"

"Oh, we're doing it right now," he says, leaning down so I can hear him over the noise. "I think you owe me that much."

"I said I was sorry for that night, okay?" I shriek in frustration. "It was stupid and unfair of to both you and Jazz. But you can't blame me for your feelings, James. Before that I was pretty fucking clear that I wasn't interested. It's not my fault you're not used to taking no for an answer."

"Oh, I'm obviously pretty good at listening to 'no' from you, Alice," he snaps. "Many other guys wouldn't, especially in the position we were in."

I jerk away from him, not liking the memory or what he's implying.

"Is that all?" I demand.

"Why didn't you tell me about the chair? What happened to him?" James asks, tone mellowing now.

"Football accident," I reply. "A little over a year ago. He's a quadriplegic."

"That's what makes his hands curl."

I nod.

"You should have fucking told me," he says, angry again.

"Why the fuck?"

"Because if I'd know he was a cripple I would never have tried to get with his girl," James says. "I'm not a terrible person."

"Yeah," I reply, shaking my head. "You kinda are."

And with that I leave.

Getting Jasper into a cab takes a little more work that it usually would because of all the drinking, but we manage. I expect either angry silence or yelling. Instead he pulls me into his arms and kisses me in a way that erases the kisses of every other boy from my memory and conscious.

It's a little rough and very possessive but so so so good. I cling to his neck as I drown in the feeling of pleasure and rightness and Jasper. His strong arm wraps around my tiny waist, pulling me close.

His hand travels up my inner thigh and up under my skirt. I'm both shocked and turned on by this, that Jasper is so desperate for me that he'll touch me in the back of a cab. That he'll completely forget all those manners and social norms that have been dictating his good behavior since he learned how to talk.

When he touches me like this, the curl of his fingers is definitely beneficial. He swallows my moans and whimpers.

It takes me a long time to realize that the car has stopped at the driver is yelling at us. We're back to my mother's high rise.

I pay the man and get Jasper into his chair. We wave hello at the doorman. Jasper pulls me into his lap and kisses my neck as we wait for the elevator. He holds me too tight and not tight enough at the same time. I'm dizzy with how good this feels.

We haven't done this in months. _Months_.

I let out a laugh through my irregular breathing as Jasper awkwardly pushes us both into the elevator.

"Don't you move," he demands in my ear as I try to get out of his lap to make it easier. He nips at my ear and I tremble as I nod.

The first time we barely make it to my room but get nowhere near the bed. We both fall forwards out of his chair. He ends up on top of me, his heavy weight pushing me back into the plush carpet. I wrap my legs around his waist, knowing that eventually I'm going to need to get on top, but this is good for now.

More kissing, fervent and desperate and possessive.

With him like this, I make promises that I don't know if I can keep. I assure him that it's only him, that it's only ever been him. I can't imagine ever wanting anyone else because no one else could make me feel like this. It's completely incomprehensible, why that other person I was a few weeks ago thought being with someone else was even an option.

I can tell when Jazz gets frustrated with the limited mobility this position gives him. I roll him over, straddling his waist as he sits up on his elbows, watching me. I pull off my t-shirt and shimmy out of my bra. Jasper groans in appreciation. A big part of this for him is visual so I run my hands down my body as I move other him.

We are so much better at this than we were in the beginning. Months of practice. Sometimes it felt like we spent most of our time in bed.

"Skirt," he demands. I stand and strip the rest of the way.

"Pants," I reply with a smirk. I pull these off too, frustrated when I have to deal with his sneakers. Jasper chuckles at my desperation. He stops laughing when I wrap my lips around him. His noises change to groans, whimpers, sex sounds that will be forever imprinted on my deepest, most sacred places.

And I know sex is strange for him, different than it used to be because he can't really feel this. He can't really feel anything from the waist down, but his body responds. The visual and tactile stimulation is enough to trick his brain into feeling.

Sometimes he doesn't come. Sometimes it just doesn't happen. We're both okay with that now, despite some awkward and tense situations in the first few weeks.

This time he's going to come. And so am I. I can just tell.

Eventually he pulls me up with his hands in my hair, yanking at the short strands, rough but not too rough. He touches me, making me quiver and shake before I finally connect us.

I close my eye and move, move, move – rhythmic and graceful. With him like this I feel beautiful and powerful and totally at his mercy. I don't feel like tiny quirky Alice, but the very best version of myself.

I tell him I love him as I collapse against his chest, curling up on top of him and tucking my head underneath his chin.

"I love you too," he murmurs when his breathing finally settles. "You can't be with anyone else, Alice. You just can't."

"I know. I won't," I promise.

And that's how we leave it.

* * *

**Yeah the distance thing is a real bitch.**


	12. Home for the Holidays

**Sorry about the lack of update yesterday. I had to make this one fluffier. **

**I don't own anything.**

* * *

Christmas in Dillon feels like coming home. I've never really had a home before with how often M.J. and I moved when I was growing up. Even after settling in New York. It felt more like base camp than home.

The feeling isn't entirely unsettling.

Still, I hate this place, the town itself. The feeling is about the people that live here, Coach and Jasper. Emmett and Rose. Edward and Bella who drove down from Colorado yesterday.

Dillon is as fucked up as it has always been.

Esme Platt moved in with Coach about a month ago. Even though they did everything right and disclosed their relationship to the principal and the school board it was still a big scandal. I'm glad I wasn't here for that shit. I'm strangely protective of Coach even though he's a guy who can obviously take care of himself.

Coach gets pissed because Esme doesn't treat his players any different from other students. Esme gets pissed because Coach is football crazy. But still they really care about each other and I'm glad my dad is happy.

Over break I spend most of my nights at Jasper's apartment. I don't think Coach really likes it but he doesn't say anything and for this I'm thankful.

I make it back to Dillon in time to see the Panthers lose State by three points. Both the men in my life get really cranky for a while. Cheering up Jasper isn't too hard. I know just what to do.

At least no one puts for sale signs in Coach's front yard this time. I don't listen to the radio or read the paper because I'm so happy to be here with the people I love I don't want any Dillon football crap to ruin it.

Jazz spends Christmas Day with his family and even that short amount of time apart is hard. I don't know how I'm going to manage back at school on my own so I don't think about it.

Esme, Bella, and I cook a big feast for everyone at Coach's house. A newly engaged Rosalie watches. I feel Jasper's absence acutely, even surrounded by all the other people I care about in Dillon. After dinner Charlie drunkenly stumbles home and Coach goes upstairs with Esme. We end up on the back porch, all bundled up as we smoke and drink.

I wonder if it will always be like this when we get back together. If it will always be like we weren't apart.

"So what's the deal with you and Jazz?" Rosalie demands even though we've had this conversation about a thousand times in the last few months.

"Aw, Rosie," Emmett says. "Leave the poor girl alone for one night."

"It can be your Christmas present to me," I reply. Rose sticks her tongue out at me and I giggle.

Weed makes me silly.

"I miss you guys hangin' around here," Rose says. "Dillon seems empty this year."

She's going to Dillon Tech, living with Emmett, and helping him run the shop. I wouldn't dream of staying here for a man – obviously – but I'm not Rosalie. Despite her toughness and liberalness, deep down she just wants to get married and have kids. She's so sure about it. I wish I was that sure about anything.

"I miss this place a whole lot more than I thought I would," Bella admits from her perch on Edward's lap.

"We're gonna get back here as soon as we can," Edward declares. "Colorado's fine and everything but people in Boulder just don't get it. They make fun of my boots."

"Wow, big problems, little brother," Emmett says, laughing.

"Texas forever," Edward replies. Bella doesn't even argue. I wonder if they will end up here. Part of me wishes I could see that future for myself. Despite how Dillon has started to feel like home, I can't come back here permanently. That is the one thing I know for sure, and it's the one thing that ultimately makes Jazz and I doomed.

Because he won't leave and I would never ask that of him.

Eventually we're gonna fall apart. I'm just prolonging the heartbreak, but I can't get over him right now. I just can't. My efforts at the beginning of the semester failed miserably.

"Well, it's late," Edward says. I could tell this was coming just by the way he is looking at Bella. I want to ask to paint them together but it seems too awkward. "Gotta get the little lady to bed."

Bella blushes and I smile, happy that some things don't change.

"Hey, you guys want to give me a lift? Pretty please?" I ask, even thought this is technically my house.

Emmett laughs at me, calling me a shameless hussy.

When I get to Jasper he's all tucked into bed already. Being with his whole family usually wipes him out. Most of them only see the chair. His parents get it for the most part, but all he gets from his extended family is chair pity. There's nothing much worse then constant pity from the people that once worshiped him.

I curl up next to him, trying to absorb enough of his heat I can so I won't freeze to death on my own back in New York.

* * *

"Jesus, Jazz, if you don't stop pawing me we're never going to eat," I say, trying to hold back my laughter.

"Technically, darlin', I already ate this morning," he replies, waggling his eyebrows at me. "And what a fine meal it was."

I laugh out loud before leaning down to give him a kiss, pleased by his lewdness and happiness.

I go back to our French toast and Jasper goes back to touching me. It's damn distracting and I have a hard time thinking about how different even meals are back in New York, with me in the dinning hall or shoving ramen down my throat as I pull all nighters in the studio. Jasper just makes everything better, even cooking, and my heart aches as our days together dwindle down.

"Ya'll are gettin' gross. As a perpetually single type dude I shouldn't have to hear the sounds of love makin' that early in the morning." Peter joins us in the kitchen and I don't even bother looking guilty or embarrassed because I'm so not.

Jasper's ears turn pink. Fuck, he's adorable.

"If you don't shut the fuck you with your complaining you aren't going to get any breakfast," I tell him.

He mumbles something probably not very nice as he moves into the living room.

"Hey, I haven't told you how beautiful you are this mornin'. You should really wear my clothes more often."

I snort at this as I flip the toast in the pan. "Jazz, I'm downing in this thing. You're way bigger than me. I had to roll the sleeves up four times to even see my hands."

"It's sexy."

"Well, great. I'm glad you think so."

What is it about men seeing their women in their button downs? I just don't get it, but whatever. It makes Jazz happy.

We all settle around the small kitchen table to eat and talk about our Christmases. Jazz and Peter tell family horror stories. I talk about my lovely evening with the people I love best in Dillon. It's decided that I had the best Christmas. I pout and say it would have been better if Jasper was with me. He leans over to kiss me, much to the displeasure of Peter.

After breakfast we get back into bed to snuggle. It's a lazy morning.

"I still say it doesn't feel like Christmas without any snow," I murmur. My legs are all tangled up with Jasper's. My head is on his shoulder. He plays with the ends of my hair.

"We're you always in New York for the holiday? Growin' up?" he asks.

"Usually. New York was kinda home base, even if we moved a lot. My mom's family is there, even if we aren't particular close with any of them. Most years Coach would fly out. I'd drag him out to ice skate at Rockefeller and he would get all grumpy about the cold, but when we were outside we'd always have contests to see who could catch the most snow flakes on their tongue. An impossible task, but still fun," I say, smiling fondly at the memory.

I'm really lucky that Coach and M.J. always got along.

"I bet you were the cutest little kid, with those big grey eyes of yours," Jasper muses, kissing my temple.

"People still think I'm a little kid even though I have boobs now," I reply. "That's the only reason I'm with you in the first place. I'm actually taller than you."

Jasper laughs. "No you ain't. Even though I'm sittin' all the time I'm _actually_ 6'3."

"Technicality," I reply.

"The only reason!" he yells. I just shrug and try to look serious. He tickles me somewhat ruthlessly until I'm squealing and thrashing around.

"Not even a reason!" I yell. "Not a reason at all."

"That's better," he says, pulling my back to his side as he stops the cruelty.

"You are way too good at tickling."

"Or you're way too good at being ticklish," he replies. I giggle and snuggle closer to him. We enjoy the silence for a minute before Jazz disturbs the peace. "You're with me."

"As much as I can be," I murmur, not wanting to talk about the distance and how it's dooming us.

"Hey, Mary Alice?" he asks.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

I beam and let the knowledge warm me up.

"I love you, too."

"Maybe next Christmas I'll fly out to New York. I ain't much of an ice skater, but I bet you sure are beautiful out in the snow."

I just nod, not sure of how I feel about his comment. Does he see us doing this long distance thing forever? Where will we be a year from now? I try not to think about it.

* * *

**I like them. I hope you do too. **


	13. Brewing

**Thanks for all the love and the reading and what not. I don't own.**

* * *

"What do you think?" James asks.

"Give me a minute," I murmur.

"You've already had at least twelve, Ali. Fuck, you're just doing this to torture me, aren't you?"

The corners of my mouth twitch up into a smile, but I don't take my eyes off his canvas. This is what we do for each other. Brutal honesty. We're friends again. It was kinda hard to not make up, being as we have basically all the same classes. It's so exhausting keeping up that level of anger we had for each other last fall. This friends thing is much easier.

Jasper doesn't like it.

It's late. James and I are alone in the studio. I finished up a couple hours ago, but I'm hanging around to provide a little moral support for my friend.

Jasper wouldn't like that either.

Another minute or two. I have to formulate my thoughts.

"It's… Well, there are parts of it I like," I say finally. James groans, burying his face in his hands. "You're great with color. And the play of light. That's bordering on genius."

"Fuck, I should just give up all my dreams now. Drop out and start doing caricatures for tourists in Central Park," he mumbles into his hands. "I've lost all the meager talent and inspiration I once had. This show is going to be excruciatingly terrible."

All the students in our class have a showing at the end of the semester. Spring break is next week and after that the semester is going to go fast.

"Shit, James. Be more a self indulgent artist right now," I say, rolling my eyes at his diva routine. "It's not bad at all."

"Then what the fuck is it, Alice? I know you don't like it so just spit it the fuck out," James insists, flapping his hands around his head. I snicker, wishing I had a way to record him. James has this whole cocky bastard thing going on, but mostly that's just bullshit.

Mostly.

"It's not that I don't like it. I just know you and I know your work. This… it's like you're trying too hard," I say.

"So that's your advice for me?" he demands. "Try less hard?"

"Yeah. Man, you're an artist. You should know this shit. It's about flow, not about getting bogged down in thinking," I explain.

James comes to stand next to me, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling at his painting. "I don't fucking have fucking time to do a new one before Moore's critique tomorrow."

"You won't embarrass yourself turning this in," I say.

"You sure?"

"Yes! Fuck. Why would I lie to you?" I ask, hoping up on to a counter and sitting with my legs crossed. James goes back to observing his painting from various angles.

"Because you are a sneaky, manipulative bitch who will do anything to preserve your status as number one in our class and Moore's favorite student."

"Do you know how much pressure it is to be the best? It's no goddamn cakewalk. And I don't have a manipulative bone in my body," I reply, scoffing.

James just snorts and my phone rings in my purse.

Only one person could be calling me this late. I grin to myself as I dig around in my bag for my phone.

"The muse?" James asks, not even looking at me.

"Yup."

"Does he know you call him that? That I call him that?"

"No," I say with a chuckle. "Good old Texas boy wouldn't like that. Way to girly and mystical. Though in secret he'd like the idea. It's more accurate than 'boyfriend' though. That's for sure."

James isn't facing me but he rolls his eyes. I just know it. He may not want me or pursue me anymore, but that doesn't mean he understands my relationship with someone so different form myself.

"You two don't match," James told me right after Jasper's Thanksgiving visit last semester. "You're so different."

Matching is overrated.

"Hey, babe," I say, answering my phone. "You're up late. Shouldn't you be resting up for try outs tomorrow?"

"Ali baby? Yah there?"

I suppress a sigh, immediately understanding that he's out at some extremely loud party or bar. There is a slur in his voice. I decide its all Peter's fault.

Peter and Jazz have been in Houston for the last two weeks, trying out for the national quad rugby team. Jazz is really excited about it. He wants to be part of a team again so badly. His heart aches to be a player.

I saw him play at the Y a couple times over Christmas break. He's so scary intense about it. Plus it's really physical and that makes me nervous. I would never tell him that, but I still worry that he'll hurt himself.

He wants it so bad, I'm scared he'll be disappointed.

Most of the other guys going out for the team have been playing for years and have know each other just as long. Jazz is the new kid on the block. I'm weirdly wary of the whole thing, but Peter promised to look after Jazz, telling me to rest easy.

If Jazz makes the team he'll get to play in the worldwide tournament in China. I'd find a way to go with him this summer. I've never been to anywhere in Asia.

"Jazz? You there?"

Laughing. Loud music. The sound of something crashing to the ground. A slew of curses.

I seriously consider hanging up on him when it goes quite after a little more shuffling.

"Alice? Yah still there, baby?" he asks, words almost blending into one.

"I'm here. And you're drunk," I say.

"As a fuckin' skunk. I had a reason for callin' you. Don't remember though. I've met so many people. Good guys like me who have real lives," he says.

"You have a real life," I say. "Being a coach of the Dillon Panthers is a pretty big deal."

"Yeah, I guess," he replies, sounding like a petulant child. "We didn't even win state this year."

"At least you played at state. You can't win every year."

"Everyone one was givin' me a hard time about you. Most of them think I made you up," he says.

"Oh really? And what exactly did you tell them?" I ask, watching James as he mixes more paint. I sigh. It looks like I'll have to camp out here for a while. There's no way I'm walking back to the dorm this late at night by myself.

"They don't understand. How we aren't really boyfriend and girlfriend but we love each other anyway," Jasper continues, sounding so sad I would give just about anything to beam myself there and give him a hug.

"I miss you," I say, even though that won't do much to make either of us feel better.

"I know, baby. I know it."

"I'm sorry the boys are given you such a hard time. Did you tell them how pretty I am?"

"I showed them and then didn't really take to kindly to all the dirty stuff they responded with," Jazz says.

"Showed them?"

"Keep a picture in my wallet. That one of us by the lake with you in my lap. The sun is making your hair all shiny," he explains. "One of them called you fun sized and another said he wanted to put you in his pocket."

"Jerks," I say with a giggle. Jasper just sounds so thoroughly offended.

"They keep trying to get me laid," he says quietly.

My heart stops. Even though we're avoiding the definitions I thought we'd at least established that monogamy is a thing we're doing. It's like we are living in this twisted kind of purgatory where we talk regularly and act like a couple when we're together.

It can't last. Thinking about our situation too much terrifies me.

"Do you want to get laid?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Not like that, Ali. I want you to be here right now. I hate being away from you. Hate that you're out there experiencing the city and I'm stuck in Dillon. That's why I gotta make this team. I gotta do something valuable."

There have been mumblings from Jasper in the last few months of his discontent. I didn't take him seriously until he got super into this quad rugby thing. Still, I have a hard time seeing Jasper living outside of Dillon and loving it.

"I want that too. Soon, though. I'll be there in one week," I remind him. "One week isn't so long."

"And hopefully by then I'll be on the team and practicing for China!" he shouts. "Huzzah!"

The sound of him guzzling. I hope it's beer and not whiskey.

"What are you doin' tonight, baby?" he asks.

"Oh nothing much," I reply, glancing at James, flicking his brush around furiously. "Just finished up a piece earlier tonight and now I'm just hanging out in the studio."

I don't want to tell him who I'm with on a night where a bunch of assholes are trying to get him laid. I'll tell him if he asks.

"With who?" he demands right away.

"James," I reply with a sigh. "He's trying too hard."

"Trying too hard to do what now?" Jasper yells. I wince at the volume in my ear. "I will get on a fucking plane and kick his ass if I have to."

"Trying to hard to paint something that isn't shitty, Jazz." Something in my tone mellows him.

"I really have to make the team, Alice. I just have to."

Again, it scares me this desperation.

"It's only your first year," I say. "You have a lot of years to become really great."

"I'm fucking great now," he says angrily. "If the coach's don't play no favorites than I'm a sho in."

Now is obviously not the time to get into it.

"Do you have more try outs tomorrow?" Basically I'm question the decision to get wasted tonight.

"Nope," he says, drawling out each syllable. "Today's the last day. Tomorrow they announce the team. Hey, Alice? I gotta go, baby. Peter is beckoning me."

"Well, go to him, Jazz. Let's not keep Pete waiting."

"I love you, Alice," Jasper tells me.

"I love you too."

After I hang up with Jazz, I curl up on the supply counter and watch James paint. I use my purse as a pillow.

"I still just don't get you, Alice," James says, continuing to work.

"What's not to get?" I ask, starting to drift into sleep.

"You're this bad ass girl. A total individual who makes beautiful art. You're kinda a rich kid but you didn't grow up that way. You say weird things and you aren't scared to be honest, but all that I get. All that I understand. It makes sense. Your love for Jasper? Your connection to some dinky ass town in middle America? That is a complete mystery to me," he says.

I smile. "Yeah, it took me a while to accept those parts too because they don't really make sense. But I love him. I really do. It's the scariest, stupidest thing I've ever done in my entire life."

I seem to fall asleep after that because my next memory is James shaking me away and dragging me towards home. Maybe not home, but at least the place I keep all my stuff.


	14. Undivided Attention

Jasper doesn't make the team.

His distress is so intense that he doesn't even answer his phone for two whole days. I call him over and over, first to ask if he made it and then to freak out about his safety.

Finally I get desperate enough to call Peter.

"Ali-Cat!" he yells. "What's shakin', baby? How you doin'?"

"Where the hell has Jasper been? I haven't heard from him since he drunk dialed me on the last night of tryouts. Thanks for working with your wheelchair buddies to get him laid. I really appreciated it," I snap, not even bothering with the niceties

"Shit, Ali. You know I'm on your side. You don't have to have no worries about our boy and the many ladies that want him," Peter responds.

Peter pretends not to care about anything. That's how he copes, I think.

"Peter! I'm going to crawl through this fucking phone and stomp on your balls if you don't tell me what's going on right this minute!" I shout. Quite a few people milling about on the quad stare at me like I'm a crazy person.

This is a goddamn art school. We're all crazy people. And if we're not now then we will be by the time we're done.

"He didn't make it, Al," Peter says with a sigh. "He's bein' a right little bitch about it. He's awfully resentful of us who did get on the team. I tried to tell him it's an experience thing and he said it was a favoritism thing. I took mild offense, Al. I'm damn good at what I do and it took me years to get here."

"Fine, whatever. You're awesome at quad rugby. Great. Now where is Jazz?" I'm slightly less frantic now that I know that Jasper is just skulking somewhere instead of dead in a ditch somewhere.

"Uh… well.. about that…"

"Pete, just tell me."

He's making me nervous. Really nervous.

"He got a ride back to Dillon with some tattoo artist. He didn't want to hang around here for the next couple of days while I practice and party," Peter says. "We drove here together, after all."

"That doesn't sound that bad," I reply.

"She's a very attractive tattoo artist. I mean, damn fine. And tall."

"Tall?" I squeak. "How tall?"

"Like almost six feet tall."

A whole foot taller than me.

"How worried should I be here, Peter?" I ask quietly.

He doesn't pause for very long. I take comfort in this.

"Not that worried, Ali. Not that worried. This is Jazz we're talkin' 'bout."

Yes, it's Jazz. The boy how lost everything last year. I'm scared he's not done dealing with that yet.

* * *

"Whose favorite flavor is vanilla?" I ask through my giggles. Jasper's incredulous expression just makes me laugh harder.

"I don't like all that stuff in mine," he says, gesturing towards my bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough. "It's distracting."

I laugh again. He scowls before leaning down and giving my chair a yank. I squeal as he pulls me closer to him, pleased that our knees touch.

"When I find somethin' sweet," he says, voice low and seductive in my ear, "I like to give it my undivided attention."

A shiver runs up my spine. A memory of his mouth on me, eliciting waves of pleasure.

Two days in Dillon. Seven orgasms for me. Two for Jazz.

Jasper sees my reaction and laughs.

It's good to hear him laugh, to see him happy. It took me two days, a third of my visit, to snap him out of his funk. This quad rugby thing really hit him hard, and I don't totally understand it. Everyone – Coach, the Whitlocks, Edward and Bella – all say that I've been a blessing to Jazz. That I'm so good at helping him deal with this new, post football life. But in truth I don't understand at all. His life is settled now, but he's discontent, restless. I see that now.

Sometimes I get frustrated. Sometimes – especially in the first few days of my trip out here – I want to just shake him and tell him to get the hell over it. But then I imagine a world where I couldn't paint, draw, create. Where doing what I love was a physical impossibility. I think I would be disappointed too, if I found some alternative and then fell short.

I just treat Jazz like I would want to be treated if I couldn't draw.

But now he's okay. He's figured out that he can be sad about not making the team and happy to see me at the same time.

"You've got a dirty mind, Alice Masen. I was simply talkin' about this here ice cream cone." Jazz then goes back to said cone, using his tongue in a way that is meant to look sexy and be reminiscent of that sexual act. Instead he just looks incredibly silly.

I bust out laughing. He frowns for a minute before laughing with me. He leans closer, getting a dab of vanilla on my chin before licking it off.

I'm planning my counter attach when are rudely interrupted as someone sits down at our little table outside the ice cream shop.

"Damn, that ice cream looks good. It's hot as hell today and it's only March. It's gonna be a long, hot summer."

I take in this giant of a woman with narrowed, suspicious eyes. The worst part, besides her towering height, is her general style. It's way too like mine for comfort – short black hair, tight black t-shirt, silver skull earrings, pierced lip.

Arms covered in colorful tattoos.

It is not difficult to figure out who this terrible creature is.

"Aw, it ain't so bad. There's even a nice little breeze," Jasper replies with an easy grin. He is far too generous with his smiles.

The woman shrugs and then seems to notice me for the first time. Her eyes narrow at me and I give her a somewhat maniacal grin, just to get under her skin.

"Shit, sorry," Jazz says when he sees us staring at each other. "Ali, this is Maria. She volunteered at tryouts and gave me a ride home from Huston. She's in town visiting her sister. Maria, this is my Alice."

My crazy person grin softens into a real smile. His. Or yes. Definitely his, despite all the stuff in our way.

"Hey," I say, trying not to be too cold to Jasper's new friend.

"Hey." She fails at keeping her tone friendly and stares down her nose at me.

Jasper blinks, looking a little confused.

"Alice is in for spring break," Jasper explains in a valiant attempt to fill the awkward silence. "She goes to school in New York."

"Oh?" asks Maria. What a crap name. Maria. It just sounds bitchy. "And what are you studying? I've never seen much value in a formal education, myself."

I almost snort and think about making some pithy comment about her spending her whole life tattooing Confederate flags and Cowboys symbols on red necks, but somehow manage to refrain.

"I'm studying art at Pratt. Painting," I explain.

"You don't need a fancy degree to be an artist," Maria says condescendingly. "True visionaries know that."

This time I really do snort. "It's not so much the degree that interests me," I tell her. "It's the journey to get there. I've already learned so much."

"Alice is really great," Jasper says. "Half the time we're together she spends sketching me."

"He's my muse," I say, grinning somewhat wickedly. I know what this bitch wants. She's painfully obvious.

Jasper chuckles and shakes his head at me.

"How… quaint," says Maria. "Speaking of art, let me get a look at my work. See how it's healin' up."

Jazz glances at me, guilty. I scowl at fucking Maria. What the fuck is going on here?

"Aw, now," he says, still looking exceedingly uncomfortable. "It's just fine. No need to check it out."

"Oh, come on, Jazz," she says, giggling slightly. "You embarrassed to take off your shirt? Afraid the good ladies of Dillon would just freak out at the sight of your naked chest?"

"My chest ain't what it used to be," Jazz mutters.

And he's right. It's more impressive what with how strong his upper body is these days. I'm the only one that should know this.

I want to dump my now melted chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream down her shirt.

"Well," Jasper says, looking at me now. "We better getin' gone. Alice and I are goin' to dinner at a friends place. Need to get ready."

And by get ready he best mean explain to me what the fuck is going in here.

I've formulated a theory. I really hope I'm wrong.

We go back to Jasper's place in tense silence. I march along and he follows several paces behind me.

The second we get to his apartment I round on him.

"Take it off," I demand.

"All right, baby," he says, brushing off my anger. "I see you can't even wait to get into the bedroom."

His easy grin falters when he sees my face.

"Jasper, take off your motherfucking shirt right the fuck now." My voice is low and dangerous and almost foreign to my own ears.

He stares at me for a long moment before sighing heavily. He pulls his t-shirt over his head and drops it on the floor.

I scrutinize him, my eyes roaming over every familiar inch. He used to be lean and lanky. Now he's broad, pecks defined, abs sculpted. Golden, smoothed skin.

Nothing out of place.

"Arms up," I demand, snappy my fingers at him.

"Alice, I'm not a fucking poodle in a dog show." Despite his complaints he does as I say.

Still no tats.

I move to walk around him, and Jasper moves around so that we're still facing each other. I glare at him, attempting to move behind him again, only to have him prevent me. Again.

"Jasper!" I yell.

He sighs and leans forward in his chair. I move closer, peaking over his back. And there, right on his spine – around the C7-T1 junction I'd say – is a design of black lines.

"What the fuck is that?" I ask, resisting the urge to touch it. Although I don't have any tattoos myself – they are totally not subversive or interesting now that everyone's getting them – I can tell it's fresh, still scabby.

"In means peace in Sanskrit," he confesses, sounding embarrassed. "And I know it's a little cliché—"

"Well the woman who marked your body is a giant walking cliché so that's really to be expected," I mutter, moving away from him. I don't want to look at it anymore.

"I may have been pretty drunk when I got it, but I like it, Alice. That's kinda the whole point of my life right now," he says. "Finding a little peace with this."

He gestures towards the chair and suddenly I want to cry. I'm powerless to give him peace, but this tall stranger has helped him somehow, left her mark on him. I'm too far away and unwilling to give up my dreams to help him find new ones.

"You're mad," he says.

I just shake my head. Mad is the wrong emotion.

"Then what, Alice? What have I done wrong now?" he snaps.

"You didn't tell me. You disappear for two days without so much as even a text and then get a ride home with that _tall_ lady and now I'm finding out she touched you and saw you with your shirt off and marked your skin," I yell, feeling out of control and unlike myself.

"So that's it? Your jealous?" he asks.

"That is way too simplistic," I reply. Jealousy is part of it. She's here and I'm there.

"I didn't tell you because I just assumed you'd see and then we'd talk about it," he says. "It's not a big deal. Just a tattoo."

"I don't see your naked back very often," I murmur. It's true. When we fuck I'm on top by necessity. "Seven orgasms for me and I didn't see your back once."

"Can we not fight anymore? Please?" Jasper asks.

This fight is just a warm up fight. I can feel it. I know it. Picking a fight about this means we don't have to dig into anything real.

I let out a big sigh and force myself to relax. I'm here and instead of worrying I'm just going to enjoy it. Enjoy him.

"Okay," I reply.

"Come 'ere," he says. "I want you at least once more before we head over to Emmett and Rosalie's."

I let him touch me, obviously, despite that feeling of doom I can't shake. Something is going to happen, and it's going to hurt.

* * *

We manage to not fight until the morning of my flight back to New York.

He has plans to grab a beer with Maria tonight. I don't like it. I yell a bunch. He yells about James a lot, saying that if I can be friend with someone who wants me sexually than so can he.

I really freak out after that.

"I can't even believe your admitting that she wants you!" I shriek, pacing around his bedroom. The logical part of me screams that I'm ruining a very good trip, that Coach will be here in just a few moments and I should be soaking Jasper up, not screaming at him.

I've never been very good at listening to the logical part of me.

"What does it matter?" he screams back. "I don't want her. It's just good to have someone to talk to that doesn't know me from before. I feel like most people compare who I am now with how I was then and I hate it."

"Well I hate that you're friends with her," I reply, to worked up to understand where he's coming from.

Coach is picking me up to take me to the airport so soon. I start to get my shit together with shaky hands.

"I'm not even your boyfriend! We don't call each other that! You are a complete freak about labels," he shouts as I stuff my belongings into my duffle without even bothering to fold them.

I wince at the word freak.

"That's because it wouldn't change anything!" I scream back, focusing on the anger instead of my sadness. "You want to call me your girlfriend? Fine! Do it. Call me your goddamn girlfriend. Tell all your little rugby buddies that you have a fucking girlfriend in fucking New York and you miss her like crazy. That label won't change anything, won't change the fact that we live apart."

"How can you say that?" he demands.

"Because it's true!" I scream, totally losing it. "I'll still be far away. You'll still be here. I'll still have no plans of coming back permanently. We're doomed, Jazz. We always were. A long distance relationship is doomed from the start especially when there's no end date for the separation. We're prolonging the inevitable with the visits and the phone calls and the video dates. But we will unravel."

"Than what's been the point of all this?" he yells, waving his hands around his head. "If you've already decided that we won't last, what's the fuckin' point?"

"We love each other. I don't know how to let go of you and I don't know how to be with you and I can't come back here. This town would suffocate me. I can't give up on Pratt. I love it there. I can't ever live in Dillon, Jasper. It would crush me, stifle me."

He just stares at me as if this is new information. This whole time that I've been ignoring the fact that Jasper won't let go of Dillon he's been ignoring the fact that I'll never be back.

"Can you ever see yourself leaving here?" I ask him. "Living somewhere else?"

I already know the answer. I have an urge to cover my ears, to protect myself from the pain of hearing it. It's the question I've been avoiding pretty much since we first got together.

After the accident, Dillon became Jasper's safe haven. His comfort zone. The one thing in his life that was easy and familiar. I could never take that away from him. I could never even try.

"No," he says quietly. "I can't."

We stare at each other for a long time.

A honk from outside disrupts the silence. I close my eyes and try not to cry because it means we're out of time.

"That's Coach," Jasper murmurs.

I nod.

"I'm not goin' to the airport," he says.

"I know."

Another honk. Coach is not a patient man.

"I guess this is it," Jazz says.

I don't know what he means by it. What's at the end here? My visit or us?

I shoulder my duffle and my backpack, moving towards the door. I go slow, giving him time to do something, say something to stop me from leaving things like this.

It's not going to happen. I can tell by the stubborn set of his jaw.

Abruptly I rush over to him, giving him one last chaste kiss before rushing out of the apartment.

* * *

**Yeah, there is a lot of painful and frustrating stuff happening in this chapter. The next couple chapters are going to be pretty heavy on the angst, too. All will be well. I promise.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	15. Blurred Together

**Yeah, I know. Terrible time to disappear and leave you hanging. Real life, best friend came to visit, that whole thing.**

**Anyway, moving on. Still a few more angsty chapters. Stick with me!**

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Jasper and I don't speak for the entire month of April, on into the first weeks of May.

It's for the best really. The end had to come at some point. Better sooner than later. Still, that doesn't make the pain any less sharp. I miss him so much.

But I don't have time to wallow. Our final showing is fast approaching, and I find myself living at the studio with everyone else in the painting program. I spend most of my time with James and Millie, working in silence. They know something is wrong but don't ask. I pour myself into my work.

I have trouble sleeping. I get sick. I spend the mornings with my head in a toilet.

One night I'm overcome with the urge to create something new. I start from scratch, manically working even though nothing concrete has formed in my head. It feels like my hands are disconnected from my body as I work at the canvas. It's like my brain is just along for the ride and I paint for hours. I'm in some sort of trance.

I snap out of it the next morning when I finally finish just in time to go to class. Shaking my brain to dispel the fog, I take a step back to get a good look at what I just created.

Never before have I done something like this. It's all swirling color and thick lines of paint. I take a step back, cocking my head to the side as I try to figure out what exactly has been slathered onto the canvas.

Three figures, one broad in a chair, one slight and standing, one doll sized. They are close together, borders blending into each other, making them seem almost like one entity. It's a family, I decide. Unlike one I ever had. Never in my living memory were my parents so close that their individual lines got blurred together.

The sitting figure holds the doll with curled fingers.

And that's when I figure it out. That's when my brain catches up to what my body has known for weeks now.

The realization has me running to the toilet, the bile burning my throat because I haven't eaten anything to throw up in the last twelve hours.

I don't make it to class.

* * *

All my free time is devoted to staring at the painting I can't bear to name. It feels like someone else painted it. There is hope and beauty in ever stroke, overcoming the fear that radiates from the slight figure. The me figure.

I painted Jasper at peace.

I can't name a painting that doesn't feel like mine.

James forces me to go to dinner, but as soon as I shove a few bites into my mouth, I'm back at the studio. Everyone just assumes I'm extra nervous about the final showing in three day, but I don't care about that anymore.

I only care about this painting.

When I get back to my studio space, I'm startled to see Professor Moore, staring intently at the painting. My first instinct is to flee, to run away from anyone who threatens to disturb the bizarre little bubble I've been existing in since that painting erupted out of me.

Since I left Jasper with nothing but angry words.

But I'm tired of being a coward. I approach my most respected and most feared professor with my head held high, determined to pull it together.

"Professor? Can I help you?" I ask, pleased that I sound together. I sound just like I do on a typical day in his class. I sound like I did days ago, before I really understood what exactly is going on with my body.

"This is your piece," he says, not looking away from the cursed work.

I pause, because again, it doesn't feel like it's mine. "Yes," I manage.

"It's not marked for the show?" he asks, looking at me now.

"Yeah," I say, hating the through of putting this in the show, standing next to it, people seeing it. "I just finished it. It's not for class."

"And why wouldn't it be for class?" he asks.

"It's personal," I mutter, feeling stupid and small. I've worked my ass off all year to earn Moore's respect, but in light of recent revelations, I just don't care.

Moore chuckles and turns to look at me. "What art isn't?" he asks. I don't do anything but stand there trying to look normal. "Put it in the show."

Guess I'll have to pick a name.

* * *

I stand still next to the painting. The nameless painting Moore forced me to put in this showing for our final. Untitled 1, is what the little piece of paper next to it says, along with my name. When people look at it – and a lot of people have really looked at it – I want to tear it from the wall and lock us both away. I don't understand it yet, when I look at it so no one else should be allowed to even try.

When they look they see too much of me, dark places I don't even know about.

Some people ask questions about my work, and I try my very best to engage with them but I just don't have the energy, mental or physical.

"You look like shit." James hands me a glass of white wine and it takes me longer than it should to process what is now in my hand and the things coming out of his mouth.

"I showered," I say. Millie made me. And then she put me in this simple black dress.

"What is up with you?" he asks, looking at me with concern. "You're art is a big hit but you… You're freaking people out. Seriously, you've been sad for over a month but this last week you've been scary."

"Sorry," I say, completely devoid of emotion. "I don't want this." I hand him the glass, turning my body away from him. A clear dismissal.

"I'm your friend, Alice," he murmurs. "Despite our rough start I think you might be my best friend. You can talk to me."

Again, I don't respond and he finally gives up. Just like he's given up all week.

I stare at the clock on the other side of the room. All students are required to stay until nine. Ninety minutes. It seems unbearable.

"Alice." Arms around me. Familiar arms. My face in her neck. Her hand on the back of my head. My arms around her waist. All wrapped up like this I bet we look like twins. I got my height and dark hair from her. The grey eyes are all Coach.

What parts will I pass on? Do I want anything passed on at all? I push the thoughts away because they threaten the state of numbness.

I hug her hard and I'm suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to articulate what I haven't even really been able to think about yet.

If anyone would understand how this feels, it would be Mary Jane.

My mom attempts to pull away, but I hold tight. She lets out a little laugh. "I don't think you've been this affectionate since you were a little kid. Glad we've gotten passed that teenage parental embarrassment stage." Again, she attempts to pull away. I just hold her tighter.

"Mary Alice?" says my mom, alarmed now. "Baby, what's wrong?"

With a sigh and a shudder I take a step back.

"I'm okay," I murmur, studying our feet.

"You are not. Look at you!" she says, sounding so much more like a normal mother than usual.

"Ma," I say, sounding so damn pathetic. I don't even have the energy to care. "Just… take me home with you when all this is over and I'll explain, okay?"

For a moment she looks like she wants to argue, but then she nods, moving to look around and taking Phil with her.

* * *

I don't say the words, but somehow M.J. just knows. Maybe I get that from her too, how sometimes I just know things – like how I knew about Jasper's prognosis, like how I knew I would hurt him.

Somehow M.J. just knows. She stops and buys a pregnancy test on the way home. I take it, pee on the stick but I'm not shocked at all when it confirms what I've known since I first got a good look at Untitled 1.

Mary Jane doesn't cry or yell at me or accuse me of making her mistakes. She was only a year older than I am now when she had me.

Sitting wrapped up with my mom, snuggled down in her bed, she asks hard questions and I move my head to answer. Still, I can't find my voice. I can't find the words.

"It's Jasper's, then?" she asks quietly. My head rests on her shoulder and she strokes my short, shaggy hair.

I nod.

"Well, that's good."

I tense in her arms, having no idea how any of this could be considered good.

"You know him," M.J. explains. "You know him and you love him. Now that month I shacked up with your dad was obviously the best thing I ever did because it led to you, but we didn't know each other. I thought he was beautiful and he thought I was worldly, but that's not a solid foundation for a relationship. As much as we both wanted to give you something normal and steady, we just weren't equipped to be a nice little nuclear family."

"Mom, I loved the way I grew up. This isn't about me," I say, my voice croaky. "Nuclear families are overrated."

"I know, baby," she says. "All I'm saying is that it's different for you and Jasper. You love each other."

"If anything that just makes it worse," I murmur, closing my eyes. She's making me think about Jazz for the first time in a long time, and it hurts too much. He's probably fucking his fucking tattoo artist.

"How does it make it worse?"

I sigh because no amount of head nodding will answer that one.

"Because… this decision won't just be about me," I attempt to explain. "I don't want this. I don't know if I will ever want this."

"And you think Jasper will?" Mary Jane asks.

"Maybe. I mean, this was supposed to be impossible for him. We were never very careful because this was never supposed to happen. Maybe he'll be happy, but Jazz has already gone through so much in the last couple years. This might break him," I reply.

Either reaction from him scares me. Maybe I won't tell him at all.

"Everything about this is scary," M.J. replies.

"I don't want this to be my life, Mom," I say. "I know I should, especially because I'm only here because you decided to let me change yours… but this…. I just don't think I can. Would you hate me? If I decide I can't do it?"

"No, Mary Alice," she says, pulling me close. "I could never hate you. But before you make any decisions you have to do two things."

"What?"

"First, you have to really process this. You have to bring yourself to realize that there is a baby growing inside of you. Not a thing. Not an it. Not some abstract concept that will change your life. A baby that holds so many possibilities."

I shudder, not wanting to do that at all.

"What's number two?" I ask so I don't have to think about number one.

"You have to tell Jasper."

I groan.

"You do. You'll hate yourself forever if you don't. And I know things are complicated with you two right now, but you have to tell him."

"How did you know?"

"Alice, have you seen what you painted? Plus, I know that look. That terrified this can't be real look. Took me awhile to get rid of it when I first got knocked up."

Mary Jane wants to get me on a plane right away. She wants me to go to Dillon. There are two people I dread telling in Dillon. Staying here is safer, at least for now.

I go numb again. I ensconce myself in my room at M.J.'s place and paint rather than think or process or plan or decide. My series of blurred together people gets bigger.

* * *

Two weeks after school ends my unfeeling existence is shattered by one phone call. I only answer the call because he never calls me and I fear that if I don't I'll miss something big.

"Edward?" I ask.

"Alice, hey." He sounds frazzled. I don't know if I ever heard him sound frazzled. My first stupid thought is that he somehow knows. That somehow Jazz knows.

"What do you want?" I snap.

"Shit, Ali. Hello to you too. Don't see why you're gettin' all prickly with me. I thought we were friends," he says, sounding genuinely offended.

"I'm sorry," I say with a sigh. "Really, I'm just crabby today. How are you, Edward?"

"Well, to be honest, Alice, things are kinda crazy and I hate to bug yah, but I don't know who else to call," he says. Again, I'm surprised to here Edward Cullen sounding so stressed.

"What's wrong?" I say, really freaking out now.

Maybe he broke up with Bella. Edward and Bella can't break up. If they can't make it work, being all crazy in love and functional, how do Jazz and I even have a chance?

"This is gonna sound kinda crazy but I'm in Mexico," he says.

"Okay."

"With Jasper."

Something funny clenches in my stomach.

"Okay."

"Listen, I thought I could handle him, you know? I thought the whole drive down here I would be able to talk him out of this, we'd party it up in Mexico, and he'd come back feelin' better about… you know. Stuff."

"Edward," I say, losing patience for his babbling. "What the fuck are you talking about? Jasper and I aren't exactly speaking right now. It's hard for both of us."

"Right. Yeah. I get that. But I know you care about him and he cares about you so I figured you could help."

"Help with what!" I yell.

"Well, see, Jazz got it into his head that he can walk again if he gets some surgery down here," Edward says.

"Surgery in Mexico? You've got to be fucking kidding me," I reply. "What kind of fucking Mexican surgery?"

"I don't really know. Some kinda experiment I guess. They're injecting him with fucking shark blood or some shit," Edward replies sounding really worried.

"Shark blood!" I scream.

"Shark stem cells," Edward corrects. "Does it really fucking matter? All this medical stuff is over my head."

"I just… I don't…" I stutter, at a complete loss. I haven't let myself do any thinking or feeling in the last two weeks and I'm having a hard to absorbing all this information.

"It's supposed to make him walk again," Edward explains. "Either way, I'm worried he's going to get himself killed. He's serious, Alice. I haven't seen him like this before. It's crazy."

My heart stops in my chest.

"Alice, please. I need your help. Jay really might go through with this. He's so fucking determined to walk again, it's scary. Please. Even if things ain't right with you two right now I need your help. He needs your help." Edward is begging me, being unnecessarily persuasive. Of course I'll help. I just haven't managed to find the words yet.

"Yeah, of course," I finally manage. "What do you need from me?"

"Come here. Come meet us here. We still have a couple days before the operation to change his mind."

I'm on a plane less the eight hours later.

* * *

**I'm going to try my very hardest to post tomorrow. If you've seen the show you know what's coming.**


	16. Overboard

**Here we go. Nice long one. I don't own _Twilight_ or _Friday Night Lights._**

* * *

The dingy hotel room reeks of booze. I don't know why I expected any different. This is Edward Cullen in Mexico. There is no way he wouldn't want to live it up while he's here. Still, it pisses me off that he can drink at a time like this. A time when Jasper is so obviously freaking out.

Actually, knowing Edward the current situation is the reason for all the drinking.

Both boys are asleep, snoring lightly in a pair of twin beds pushed against the walls opposite from each other. I sit on the edge of Jasper's bed, running my palm up and down his calf, giving myself just a moment to take him in.

I've missed him so much.

There is this huge thing between us that I'm scared to tell him, especially now. What if my news makes it worse? What if he becomes that much more determined to walk?

I push those thoughts out of my head. For the first time since I figured out what's going on with me, I have something new to focus on. Jazz and talking him out of this lunacy will get all of my attention.

"Nice hat," I whisper in Jasper's ear. He's fallen asleep in a truly silly fedora. His blue eyes flicker open.

"Alice," he murmurs. I smile slightly, but it sounds like he's still trapped in a dream. He returns my smile for a beautiful little second before pushing himself up and glowering at me. "Alice?"

"Hey," I say. Fuck, that's so lame but it's all I've got at this moment.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Fucking _Cullen_.

"Edward didn't tell you I was coming?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Fuck no! He called you here?" Jasper is livid. I wasn't expecting him to be so angry. I thought he might be a little bit happy to see me, even if we left things so terribly. I'm a little bit happy to see him. More than a little bit, even if he is planning on doing the stupidest thing I've ever heard of in a couple days.

"Yeah, he's fucking worried about you," I snap.

"Cullen!" Jasper booms, chucking a shoe at him. Edward grunts, lifting his head. He gives me that Edwardy grin of his. I just scowl at him. "What the fuck is this, man? You told her I was down here?"

"Nice to see you, Alice," he says, ignoring a very pissed off Jasper. "Glad you could make it."

Jasper growls in frustration. "Fuck you, man."

"What the fuck is this?" I demand, noticing the thong draped around Jasper's neck. "Seriously? Hookers in Mexico? Seriously?"

The father of my unborn child, everyone. Sticking it to floozies across the world.

Child.

Fuck.

I freeze up, realizing that this is the first time I've thought about it that way. Given a name to what is actually going on here, inside my belly.

Oh, fuck, the tears. I will not cry. Not right in this moment.

I bury it deep. I try to find the numb. I wish I had a paintbrush.

"Alice," Jasper says, comforting me now, his hand against my neck. "Relax. We were just singing a little karaoke last night at this place that was sort full of strippers. There was no hookers. I promise."

I let him think that is what has me upset. It is what has me upset partially. I just nod and work on the numb.

"No hookers, Ali," Edward puts in, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Who wants breakfast?"

* * *

We go to the beach.

I have no desire to go to the fucking beach, but ever time I bring up anything about the surgery Jasper deftly changes the subject. Edward just shrugs. My frustration boils as I come to realize that Edward called me down here to do the dirty work.

Edward sucks at telling Jasper what's what, as evidenced by the way he is splashing around in the waves right this moment.

"You need to relax, Alice," Jasper says. "We're in Mexico. The sun is shinning. Why don't you join me down here?"

I scowl. He's all laid out on a beach blanket, soaking up those rays. He's had about six beers already.

"I fry in the sun, Jasper," I remind him. "I'll just stay under this umbrella."

"I could use a good cuddle," he says.

I ignore him.

"You ain't even in a swim suit," he observes, staring at my tank top and shorts.

"I didn't pack a _fucking _swim suit," I reply, reaching for my cigarettes when I realize that I don't do that anymore. Haven't since that painting burst out of me.

"Who goes to Mexico without a swim suit? Shit, Ali. That's just plain dumb," he says.

"I didn't rush down here expecting to have a vacation, Jasper!" I yell, pushing up my sunglasses on to the top of my head. I am furious with him and I want him to see it clearly. "I rushed out here to keep you from killing yourself. Hanging out on the beach, watching you get hammed was just about the very last thing on my mind."

"Sorry, Alice," he says, sitting up. "Here, have a beer. How rude of me not to offer sooner."

"I can't have a beer," I say.

"Can't?" he asks, mildly confused.

Realizing my mistake, I put my sunglasses on, hiding my expression again. "I need a clear head to tell you that I think you've lost your mind."

"I haven't lost my mind," he replies. "I lost my legs and I intend to get them back."

"You aren't going to get anything back," I say, trying to calm down. Everything about this situation feels like drowning. Like I can't get enough air in my lungs, my chest getting tighter and tighter with each moment that passes without making some progress to save the boy I love.

Father of my unborn child.

"Jasper, it could kill you. It probably will kill you," I murmur.

He's quiet for a long time.

"This ain't livin' anyway." His words are so hushed, I could easily pretend I didn't hear them.

But I heard them. Loud and clear.

And right on schedule, there are the tears. Just a few large silent drops that seem to sizzle on my cheeks in this hot Mexican air.

I can't contain my sniffle. I don't know what to say. I'm at a total loss. If only all those people that once said I was wonderful for Jazz could see me now.

"I love you," I whisper just as quietly as Jasper did.

He pretends not to hear me.

* * *

Night time. I think about getting my own room but don't really want to be on my own here in this sketchy motel. Edward offers to sleep on the floor. Jasper just stares at me, his eyes boring in to my skull.

Without a word I climb into his bed, tucking my head under his chin as I lie down. For one terrifying second I fear he might reject me, demand I get away from him but then his arms are around me.

He holds me as tight as I hold him.

It seems like neither of us can find the words.

I fall asleep reassuring myself that he is solid and real and here and mine.

* * *

Edward and I make a plan for our little intervention. Jasper keeps slipping away from us when we try in bring it up, somehow. With the surgery scheduled in two days, we're running out of time.

Edward decides we should get Jasper out on the water. He's always loved the water. I begrudgingly agree, even though Edward's idea of out on the water is actually some sort of booze cruise.

Still we manage to find a boat and a driver, getting Jasper alone and out at sea.

The three of us congregate at the back of the pontoon boat.

He knows, right away, when I sit next to him and Edward leans against a wall next to me. Intervention time, and suddenly, I have no idea what to say.

"So this is it, huh?" he asks with a chuckle. He shakes his head and looks mean.

"Listen, man," Edward starts. "We've been talking and we don't think this stem cell thing is such a great idea."

"Well, that's just great, you two conspiring behind my back. You like to do that Cullen, talk to my girl behind my back."

I let out at sigh as Edward tenses next to me.

This is going to be so much harder than either of us thought. It's my fault, that we're even here at all. Things have been brewing inside Jasper for months and I chose not to see it. It was always so remarkable how well he seems to deal with everything, how strong he is. I should have known better than anyone that he didn't ever really deal with everything it at all.

Quad rugby. Our fight or break up or whatever. Watching everyone leave Dillon while he was left behind, left in the one place he feels safe. Things that just made it worse for him until he felt he was out of choices. Until he decided that walking equals life.

"Look, I know you feel lost right now and you're looking for hope, but it's false hope," I say quietly, like I'm trying to calm a frightened animal.

"Why are you here?" he asks me. "Why is she even here?" he asks Edward.

"Don't be an asshole," I say. "You know exactly why I'm here."

"You don't want me to do this because you feel guilty for leaving me. It has nothing to do with you, Alice. Just leave me be," he says, glaring at me.

All that fragile peace we scraped together sharing a bed last night is gone.

"I don't want you do to this because I need you to not be dead," I explain. My own tongue trips me up as I attempt to make him understand. "You're doing this crazy stupid thing on a whim and I need you to not be dead."

"I've been researching it for weeks," he defends, choosing to ignore the main point of my rambling.

"Weeks huh?" Edward says, smiling darkly. 'You must really know what you're talking about then."

"Yeah," Jasper replies, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Come on, man. Even the doctor said there's a good chance of you dying on the table," Edward continues.

I try not to cry. My nails dig into my knees.

"Look, I want out of this chair, all right?" Jasper shouts, gesturing wildly. "I want out of this chair right now. Now! This is a way to do that. And neither of you can look me in the eye and tell me you know what it's like to live in this chair. So I'm gonna do this. Y'all can't stop me. Get on the table, if I die I'm fine with that."

His words fill me with dread. He can't mean it. He doesn't mean it. I won't let him mean it. No tears right now. It won't help anything.

"Don't say that," Edward yells, really truly scared. "You have so much to live for."

"No, actually I don't, Cullen."

"Yes you do, Jasper," I snap, losing patience. This isn't him. And I want to list things. To tell him how much I love him. To tell him about the baby. But that won't help anything. It's too risky, especially because I haven't even decided if I'm going to keep it.

What if he decides he needs to walk to be a good father and won't hear another word against the surgery? No, I can't risk it.

"It might not seem like it right in this moment," I continue, pushing thoughts of babies and the future out of my head. "But don't give me that bullshit. It will get better. These last few years have been rough, but it will get better. Up until a couple months ago it was better. And I honestly believe that the first step is accepting that the chair is part of who you are now. It just is. I know you and you aren't the type of person to let anything get in your way. You've got too much spirit to do this. Too much heart."

He just scowls at me before turning back to Edward.

"Things don't get better," he says. "But maybe I'll just start living in a bottle like you, Cullen. That's how you deal with your lame ass problems even though nothing ever actually gets better. Or maybe I could be like you, Ali. I could lie to myself, ignore the real world. Lose myself in some fucking meaningless pictures."

Yeah, okay. He is hitting a little close to home with that one.

"I get it," Edward says. "I get that you want to walk again. But I've gotta tell you something. Never gonna happen. Never ever. It's a fact, Jazz. Best case scenario, you lose ten grand. Worst case scenario, dead, Jay. Dead. Do you think I want to go back to Dillon and look your family in the eyes and tell them I let you do this? Do you think I wanted to call Alice down her, scare her half to death because I let you get this far in?"

Jasper looks at me. "I love you," I tell him, knowing that he hears me this time. "I do. And so does Edward. I will have him knock you out and drag you home if I have to. I know I've let you down before this past year, but I'm not done fighting for you, Jasper. We're not done. You are not done."

I think about the little squishy thing that we made together. The baby growing inside of me.

Jasper scowls at us both for a moment before turning his body away. Edward nods, and we walk to the front of the boat, giving him a minute. Giving us all a minute.

I let a few tears drop. Edward looks down at me in sympathy, not daring to touch me or comfort me after Jasper was going on about Edward's betrayal. It was about two years ago now, that Edward and Bella first got together. Almost two years – twenty months – since Jasper was paralyzed.

I glance back to look at the boy I love, hoping that our words got through. Only he's not there. Just an empty chair. I start at it for a moment and then glance around, looking for him.

It takes me about six seconds to figure out what happened.

"Stop!" I shriek at the poor Mexican man who we hired to take us out on the water. Jasper has always liked the water. "Stop the boat! Stop it!"

I know zero Spanish and he seems to understand very little English, but the boat is stopped anyway. I sprint to the back, looking out at all that water, desperately searching for Jazz.

He wouldn't do this. He couldn't. He didn't. He wouldn't leave me like this to pick up the pieces.

"Holy fuck," Edward yells when he gets to my side. He understands. His panic matches mine. "Jasper! Jazz!"

Edward screams for his best friend as I scan the water, searching him out. We had only turned away for a couple of seconds. There's no way he's been in the water for very long.

"What do we do, Alice?" Edward says, frantic. "What do we do? Do we go back?"

"We haven't gotten far," I say, still searching. "If we go back we could run him over!'

Tears are streaming down my face. They are getting in the way of my searching the water with my eyes.

"Holy fuck," Edward says again between frantically screaming his name.

And then, just when I feel like I'm going to die myself I see him, his blond little head bobbing in the waves. I let out a whimper and clutch Edward's arm for support. He's alive. He didn't drown. Not yet.

I point and point, unable to speak quite yet.

"Oh thank God," Edward whispers, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. He leans heavily on me. We lean heavily on each other. "He's okay. He's gonna be okay."

I nod, blinking though my tears.

"Let's go pick him up so I can kick his ass," Edward says, still sounding unsteady.

"Wait," I say, watching Jasper in the distance. He starts to swim towards the shore. And I know way down deep that this is something he has to do. I don't really understand any of it, but Jasper is swimming to shore. "He's going to the beach."

It's not far. His upper body is strong.

"What's he doing?" Edward asks.

"Fighting," I reply.

* * *

It's only takes us about fifteen minutes to get back to the dock and hop in Jasper's truck. We drive down the beach, and I know Edward's scared that something went wrong. That Jasper hasn't made it.

But he's fine. I just know it. He's found a little of that peace he's been searching for.

We see him, sitting up with the water at the shore lapping over his legs. He stares at the sea and I'm out of the truck before Edward even puts it in park.

I launch myself at him, knocking him sideways to the ground. Sobs wrack my body as the full weight of what almost happened hits me. I hold him to me as tightly as I can, crying into his neck. I don't care if it's wet and sandy. All I care about is reassuring myself that he's right here.

I push my hand under his t-shirt. The feel of his heart beating against my palm is the only thing that manages to calm me down, even with Jasper rocking me and murmuring comforting things in my ear and kissing my face.

It's a long time before I'm motivated to move away and when I do it's because my fear is replaced with anger.

I've never been more scared in my life and it's all his fault.

"You are such a moron, Jasper Whitlock!" I scream. He winces at my cuff to the back of his head. "How could you do that to me!"

"Alice, honey, I'm so sorry." He attempts to catch my hands. I keep hitting him.

"What were you thinking!" I ask him, repeatedly smacking his chest. Edward chuckles and for the first time I realize that he is crouched down about a foot away.

"I wasn't," he tells me. The soft smile on his face reminds me that he needed to do this. This made it better for him somehow. I sit back on my heels, feeling the anger drain out of me.

I don't understand it totally, but something has changed in Jasper. For the better.

The three of us sit there, looking at one another and trying to process everything that just happened.

"I'm sorry," Jasper says. "I'm not having the surgery. Let's go back to Texas. Let's go on home."

I cringe because Texas is home for Jasper and it's not for me. That is the very crux of all our problems.

"Guess we've got to get you up," Edward says.

We go back to silently watching the waves.

"What are you waiting for?" Jasper asks.

"I'm just contemplating how I'm gonna get you in the truck at this point,"

Jasper laughs. I laugh too. I laugh so hard I can't stop.

* * *

**Well, at least they're in the same place.**


	17. Little Miracle

**So this was going to be a couple chapters but that just seemed mean. As usual, thank you for reading and I'd love to hear your thoughts.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

"Do you want me to take you home? Do your dad's, I mean?"

We sit in Jasper's truck, parked Edward's driveway. When we finally got back to Dillon, Bella was waiting for us. She hugged us a lot and cried a lot and insisted that we all come in for dinner.

It was nice, like old times. Rose and Em were there too, still bickering despite their continued engagement. But there remains so much unsaid between Jasper and I.

"I'm not sure," I tell him. I know we need to talk. It's painfully obvious that there are a lot of things we need to hash out, and I'm just not ready. After weeks of keeping myself shut down and emotionless followed by everything that just happened with Jazz in Mexico… I'm exhausted.

"Okay."

"Take me to Coach's," I amend. He does a terrible job hiding his disappointment as he turns on the truck and backs out. "I'm just so tired, Jasper."

"There's a perfectly good bed at my place," he mutters.

I take his hand and sigh. "Do you really think that's a good idea? We have a lot to talk about and… It just doesn't seem right after not talking for so long."

"Well whose fault is that?" he asks. "You didn't call."

"Neither did you," I remind him.

"I'm the one always pushin' you for more. For once I wanted it to be you but you couldn't even pick up the phone," he says, sounding sad. At the next intersection he turns right towards Coach's instead of left towards his place. I think a little part of me wanted him to drag me to bed. I wouldn't have put up much of a fight, as fucked up as that is. "You said you weren't done fightin' for us but I haven't seen you fight at all."

I wince because he's right. He's the one that always wants to try. I'm the one that has accepted our fate as doomed and complicated and impossible. I can't do that anymore.

"You're right," I say, running my thumb across his knuckles. "I am so sorry. You are absolutely right."

"But maybe there really is no gettin' past geography, huh? You've been sayin' that we're doomed for awhile now. Guess it's about time I listened."

I want to tell him about the baby. The little thing that has the potential to change everything. The words get stuck in my throat and come out as a little sob.

"When do you go back to New York?" he asks.

"I don't know," I reply, finding my croaky voice. "My ticket was a one way. I hadn't really planned this far ahead," I reply.

Jasper goes silent, but keeps me from getting out of the truck when we get to my dad's house.

"Alice, I'm tired too. I think… I think you should just go back to New York."

He doesn't look at me, even as his words seem to stick sharp and painful right in my gut.

"Don't stick around for me," he continues. "It's high time I let you go."

"It is?" I manage to squeak out.

"I'm here and you're there. It's killin' us both, Alice. You don't have to worry about me, anymore. I'm okay. All that you said about me needing to accept this, you were spot on. I get it and I'll get there. I'm fine. You can leave without feelin' guilty at all. It's okay," he says, still not looking at me.

"That's not… I don't feel guilty or worried about you. That's not it," I stutter. Well, maybe a little worried. But that's not why I want to stay. That's not why I want to be with him.

I can't believe I'm hearing this. He's done with me.

"It's better this way," he says, leaning over me to open my door. A clear dismissal. "Better for both of us. I ain't gonna hold you back anymore."

"But… you're not… I—"

"I'm not gonna be leavin' Dillon anytime soon," he says, looking pained. And I get it. Dillon is the one thing that hasn't changed. The one thing he can hold on to as he continues to come to terms with this new life. "I just have some healin' to do still and I just… can't. And I'd never even ask you to leave New York. Not when you so obviously belong there and not here."

"I just—"

He interrupts me, which is okay because I don't really even know what I was trying to say.

"The whole drive up here from Mexico I've been thinkin' this and it's for the best. It's what you've known since last summer. It's better this way. For both of us."

I just stare at him, having no idea what to think. Just a minute ago he was disappointed that I wouldn't go back to his place and now it's over. How can it be over?

"Have a good life, Mary Alice Masen," he says. "I'm so glad I met you."

He kisses my forehead and the next thing I know I'm standing in front of my dad's house with my bag in my arms, watching Jasper's headlights disappear.

What the fuck just happened?

How could he rush me out like that? How could he talk to me with all that finality?

Not knowing what else to do, I wander into my dad's house. The front door is unlocked. I move slowly as if I'm wading through a river of molasses. Everything feels too heavy.

"Alice?" Coach's shocked voice makes me realize I'm standing in his living room. He's cuddled up on the couch with Esme. They're watching TV. I forgot she lives here too. "What in the hell are you doing here? You okay? What happened? Does this having anything to do with my quarterback coach goin' missing for near a week?"

Oh yeah. I never told Coach I about my little trip to Mexico. Until now he thought I was safe and sound in the city.

"Jasper wants me to go back to New York."

And then I burst into tears.

All this can't be good for the baby I might end up getting rid of anyway.

* * *

I spend the next two days doing what Mary Jane told me to do. I force myself to really truly understand what it means to be pregnant.

One of the first steps is explaining to Coach. He's not nearly as understanding as M.J. – much to no ones surprise – and there is a lot of yelling and pacing. Coach threatens to kill Jasper about six times before he calms down enough to talk to me.

I tell him everything. Everything.

From the look on his face and the way his eyebrows almost reach his hairline, I think it's a little too much for him to handle. I feel like he looks at me different now, like I'm not still his little girl.

It breaks my heart.

"Well, you've gotten yourself into a right pickle here, kid," Coach finally announces, rubbing his hands over his face. "A right damn pickle. I guess your mom would want me to say that I'll love you and support me no matter what you do?"

"That's basically what M.J. herself said, yeah," I reply.

"Well, screw that. You did this yourself and if I raised you right you'll step up to your responsibility and raise this kid. That's what I say."

I wince, because I still haven't really decided about any of that. Not that I'm surprised by this reaction.

We sit in silence for a few minutes as I wipe the tears from my cheeks. With a heavy sigh Coach stands up and pulls me into his arms, hugging me tight.

"I'll love you no matter what," he says. I let his t-shirt soak up my tears. "Forever and ever, Alice."

"Thanks, Pop," I reply. "I love you too."

* * *

The next step is mentally preparing myself to tell Jazz because I have to tell him, even if he wants nothing to do with me anymore. He deserves to know. If I was him I'd want to know. Plus, I'd hate myself forever if I did anything without talking to him first.

I have no godly idea how the fuck he's going to react. It terrifies me.

Bella and Rosalie come over with ice cream and chick flicks. We spend the day cuddled down in bed. They talk about their lives now – how Rosalie is basically running the auto shop and how Bella wants to study abroad next year – and don't ask me many questions. Both of my friends seem to sense that I need space and time.

When I start referring in my head to the thing in my belly as a baby not a thing pretty consistently, I know I'm ready to tell Jasper.

I'm so scared I feel like I could just fall over dead.

* * *

I sit on Jasper's couch, rocking back and forth in place while Peter watches me with concern. The movement seems like the only thing I can do to keep myself from puking. Apparently Jasper and Edward went to the park to mess around with a football – however that even works – and I've only been here for five minutes but it feels like forever.

I decided to wait here because if I leave I don't know if I'll have the strength to come back.

"You're freaking me out, Ali," Peter says.

"Shut the fuck up, Peter," I spit out, lifting my head to glare at him. "Leave me the fuck alone."

I'm taking my nerves out on him. Yelling at Pete is preferable to puking everywhere. That's what I really feel like doing.

"You're in my living room," he points out. "I think I've got the right to know what's goin' on."

"No you fucking don't. Now back off before I turn violent," I tell him.

"Aw, Alice. You wouldn't hit a cripple," he says, laughing at me slightly.

"I would make an exception for you, Pete but only because you are a giant asshole. Now kindly leave me alone," I say, burying my face in my hands again.

I go back to rocking and waiting and trying not to puke.

"Seriously, Alice. I like you, but I'm really concerned," he continues.

"I'm fine, Peter. Really, I just need to talk to Jazz."

Peter thankfully goes quiet. He can be a real asshole. Back in the day he was convinced before Jasper was that Bella was cheating and Peter tortured her mercilessly. So it's a very good thing he approves of me.

"Jazz thinks you're already back in New York," Peter murmurs. "I wish you two would just get your shit together."

I glare at him. What the fuck does he think I'm trying to do here?

"Thank you," he says, earnestly.

"For what? Torturing your roommate and doing a crap job at loving him?" I ask.

"No," Peter says. "For bringing him home in one piece. That was a close call."

A shiver goes up my spine at the thought of just how close. I nod at Peter.

At this moment Jazz and Edward come in, laughing about something. Jasper's face falls when he sees me.

It pisses me off and breaks my heart, to see him laughing like that. He sent me back to New York and he's laughing it up with Edward while I am sitting here trying to hold all my pieces together.

"Alice? Honey, what's wrong?" he asks, immediately concerned. He can just tell that I'm so not right with one look. "What are you doin' here?"

I look at him, how happy he appears to be without me, and burst in to tears for what feels like the millionth time in the last couple of days. Poor guy. He probably thought we were done, thought that he had his closure. I'm about to change everything for him.

"Oh, fuck," mutters Jasper. I don't cry. Pretty much ever. So I'm sure I'm really alarming him.

Good.

He should be really fucking alarmed. Especially this is all his fault. The baby part. I take a lot of blame for how I've handled his heart.

"Give us a minute, guys," Jasper says. I hear Edward and Peter move in to the kitchen, closing the door behind them as Jasper tugs at my elbow, trying to pry my hands off my face. He succeeds and holds them firmly in his lap.

"Alice, you're scaryin' me," he says, looking seriously distressed. I crawl into his lap because even if this is all his fault, even if he doesn't want me, he is the only one that can make me feel better. He holds me tight and rocks me until I calm down. At this point I have to move back to the couch because telling him seems harder when he's holding me like that. Plus, it doesn't feel quite right being as he told me to go away two days ago.

"What happened?" he asks, keeping a hold of my hand. "What's this about?"

I stare at him, deciding to be brave and just spit it out.

"Are you fucking Maria?"

I blink a lot and touch my own lips, confused by the words that leave my mouth. That was in no way at all what I was planning on just spitting out. Until now I haven't even thought about that tattooed slag since I found out about the baby.

"What?" he demands, looking confused. The questions and the level of my distress don't really seem to match.

"Uh…"

"Is that what has you back here?" he asks.

"Um… well are you?" Now that I'm thinking about it I really have to know. "Is that why you so calmly told me to get the fuck out of town?"

"Shit, Alice! No! Absolutely not. I... well, there was one brief kiss but it just didn't feel right at all and I haven't seen her since. She has nothing to do with us. I… Fuck, Alice. Please stop crying. I can't stand to see you so sad. You're breakin' my heart, baby."

That just makes me cry harder so many reasons. He touches my cheek and I speak again just to keep myself from completely losing it.

"I'm pregnant," I announce in a rush. I stare at him intently, pulling away from his hand and bracing myself for his reaction. I'm pretty convinced he's going to accuse me of sleeping with someone else what with the whole can't have kids thing he's got going on.

But I didn't. Never even thought about it even in those months we didn't talk at all. Unlike Jasper who was macking on floozies. Probably not the time to focus on this.

His face remains blank for a good long while as I prepare to defend my honor, but then he does the last thing I expect him to do.

He fucking smiles. I mean, he really fucking smiles – big and toothy and happy. And I don't get it. I don't trust it. Maybe he thinks I'm just fucking with him, getting back at him for telling me to leave.

"You're pregnant," he repeats, his voice filled with fucking awe of all things. His eyes are bright and excited.

I don't like it.

"That is what the fucking little stick I peed on, yes," I snap back. His reaction is freaking me out. And I'm already pretty freaked out.

"When? I mean, when did you find out?" he asks.

"Weeks ago," I mutter. "According to the doc I'm almost three months along."

"Right, so your spring break. You already went to a doc?"

"Mary Jane made me."

"I can't believe you almost let me get surgery in Mexico when we have a kid on the way!" Now he sounds a little irritated. Just minorly irritated. I completely shut down for weeks when I found out and he is just a happy fucking clam. It's not fucking normal.

I just blink at him.

"That is… amazing," he says with that same quiet reverence that I hate in this moment.

"It is not fucking _amazing_," I reply, my voice harsh and mean to compensate for his wrong reaction. "It's fucking terrible! We are fucking nineteen! I'm in college and you coach high school football. And my dad wants to murder you!"

"Alice," he says, attempting to calm me down. "It's not like that. Your dad isn't gonna kill me. Everything's gonna be fine."

This stunning change from the last time we talked is messing with my head. I should be happy that he's happy. Happy that he doesn't want to abandon me, but instead it makes me livid. I can't explain it but somehow his optimism enrages me.

Hormones. The stress of the last few weeks. An absolutely crippling fear that I can't do this. A combo of things probably, but I lose it.

"How can you say that!" I yell, pulling back from him.

"Because this is a miracle. This isn't supposed to happen for me, but it did. This baby is a good thing," he says, beaming again.

I just sputter at him, speechless for maybe the first time ever.

"You fucking broke up with me like three days ago!" I scream, pulling on my own hair. "How can you possibly say that when everything is this fucked?"

"Alice, I was just tryin' to do right by you. I wanted to make things easier for you. You're so conflicted, torn between me and school. I was tryin' to make your life easier and I've been hatin' myself ever sense," he explains. "And would it really count as a break up? I've lost track."

"Well, that's just fucking stupid," I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest. "The whole dump the girl for he own good thing is overplayed and frankly, pretty fucking condescending."

"It didn't seen stupid at the time, but you're right and I'm sorry for the other night. This changes everything," he says, reaching for me again. He rubs my knees with his thumbs.

I let out a grumble and bury my face in my hands. At least he's not questioning me on who the father is but that was the one reaction I was mentally prepared to deal with. His happiness is somehow making it all worse.

Fuck, that sounds crazy but I just can't seem to stop.

"Alice, everything is going to be perfect. I love you. I know we were really struggling to get it together before, but now it's not just about us. We are going to have a baby. A little miracle baby. There is no reason for us not to get married and live happily ever after."

I hate the way he tells me like he is the only one making decisions for our combined future. And I don't even know if I want that future and he's talking about it like its set in stone.

He makes me so mad and I'm already so scared I get mean.

"You know," I say, my voice cold. It sounds like it belongs to a stranger. "This is why you can't make a relationship work. You did it with Bella, and I can't believe you're pulling the same shit with me. Just because something is a plan in your head you think everyone else should just fall in fucking line. Bella didn't want to be your little house wife and neither do I!"

"Don't be like that," he says quietly. "I know you're scared, but you don't have to be like that."

I just scowl at him, having no words.

"We should probably get married," he repeats, totally not listening to me.

And with that I've had it. Everything is too much too soon.

I leap up, needing to get away.

"That's not going to happen! You're not listening to me. We are terrible at being with each other," I tell him, screaming. He stares up at me in horror but I can't manage to stop. "I can't have a baby. I don't know if I ever want kids ever and I'm sure as fuck not having one now so you can assert your manliness or whatever."

"What do you mean, Alice?" Jasper asks, dead serious now.

"I mean I can't and won't have this baby," I say, crying again. "I'm going to have it… have it taken care of. I just thought you'd want to know, but telling you was obviously a mistake."

"You can't do that, Alice!" he replies. Now he's the one screaming. At least he's joined me here in freak out mode.

I get some grim satisfaction from this because I'm sick, twisted, and cold hearted.

"I can do whatever the fuck I want," I reply, moving towards the door. "It's my body!"

I refuse to let him use this to trap me here in Dillon for ever and ever. I won't do it. I can't do it.

"Alice!" he screams after me. But it's too late. I'm already running away.

* * *

Jasper is asleep when I get back to his house. This isn't surprising, being as it's around three o'clock in the morning.

I feel terrible.

I don't think I've ever felt this terrible.

I hate the way I spoke to him earlier. It was cruel and unnecessary and totally invalidated his right to have an opinion.

Plus, I couldn't do it. The it I was fully planning to do when I left this house earlier this afternoon, I can't do it. I just went home to Coach's, sat in my bed with my eyes closed and tried to imagine my future.

First I tried the one I always wanted. The one where I'm an artist and I spend all my time creating and traveling.

Now, I can't see that future.

I can't see a future where I did the thing I told him I was going to do.

Jasper. Him I could see so incredibly clearly. I want him and it's so scary but before all this happened, I've never been a coward and I'm so tired of running away.

I hope I'm not too late.

I just look at him for a while, trying to absorb all this new knowledge that everything is different now. He's so devastatingly handsome, and it's been such a long couple of months I want nothing more than to curl up with this boy who I love.

Because I do.

I love him and we have so much to figure out, but we have that. We love each other. Really, really love each other.

Kicking off my shoes, tossing aside my purse, and getting out of my sweatpants, I crawl in beside him and lay my head on his naked chest. He mutters a little in his sleep and his warmth instantly makes me feel better. Except I'm not quiet close enough so I sling a leg over his waist.

"Jazz," I whisper, putting my hands on his pecks and leaning closer. "Baby, I'm sorry."

He doesn't open his eyes, but his hands move up my thighs and under my shirt. My eyes seem to be watering again but I don't remember when or even specifically why I started crying. I lean down to kiss him, even though my tears make it awfully wet.

My kiss is desperate, pathetic, and my tears flow even more with the relief of his lips moving against mine. I'm not too late. I didn't ruin us for good. It is such a relief after all the terrifying and life-altering revelations I've had recently.

"Alice," he murmurs. The way he says my name has my heart racing in my chest. I really do love him. I want to build my new future around him, even if it means life in Dillon.

It is so strange that I was so unwilling to admit it before. A future in Dillon wasn't nearly as clear to me as Jazz, but definitely doable. I could be happy with Jasper here. I could be happy with Jasper anywhere.

He pulls me closer, curled knuckles digging into my hips. Without removing my lips from his, I try to get my hands in his pants.

That move is probably a little rash of me, but it's been so long and I'm just so desperate to show him I'm back. I'm here. I'm fighting for us.

It's then that he captures both my hands in one of his and pushes my face away from him. I let out a needy little whimper that sounds so unlike me.

"What are you doing?" Jasper demands, sounding angry and hurt. "Why are you here?"

"I'm sorry," I tell him, the words exploding out of me with a sob. My whole body shakes with the violence of how hard I cry.

And I'm not a crier.

"What are you sorry for?" he asks.

"For how I talked to you. How nasty I was to you. I'm sorry for attempting to keep my distance from you this last year. I'm sorry I didn't call you after we fought over spring break. I was just so scared and I still am, but I want to be with you, Jasper. I love you. I really do," I tell him. He releases my hands and chin, scooting himself back so he is sitting up. "I can't lose you."

Jasper lets out a big breath and nods, looking pretty emotional himself. He cups my cheek with one of those big hands of his, and he lets out a shuddering breath.

"I'm scared too," he admits softy. It feels like he's piercing my soul with that blue eyed stare of his. "I don't want to force you in to anything, Alice. But I want this with you. I really believe we can do it together."

He reaches out to touch my stomach.

"And I know…. I know I'm not ideal father material anymore—"

"Hey," I say, interrupting him because I don't like he is going with this. "You are my ideal, okay? This pregnant at nineteen thing is just about my worst fear ever especially with what my parents went though with me, but I can't even imagine how much worse it would be if you we're right here with me."

"Really?" he asks, smiling slightly.

"Yes, really," I reply, kissing him chastely. "But there is still no way I'm marrying you. Not until we're at least thirty."

Jasper chuckles but then gets quiet and serious again. "I'm sorry too, for just steam rolling you with my plans. It was selfish. I'm going to be better. We're going to make decisions together."

"You are good at that," I say as I kiss him again.

"At what?"

"Saying just the right thing."

"I really do love you, Alice," Jasper murmurs, his arms coming around my waist. "I never thought it could be like this. We'll be okay. We'll figure it out."

We don't talk about geography. We don't talk about plans for the future. We just touch and kiss until I fall asleep.

For the first time since I left Dillon the last time, I'm content.


	18. Giant Alien Body

**So this is another long one. This one is way less intense than the last one. Thanks for sticking with me and the reviews and all that. Seriously great.**

* * *

"I think you should name the little guy Peter," says Peter.

"Fuck you," I reply, shoving popcorn down my throat. Every couple minutes I glance at the front door, anxious for Jasper to come home from work. "What if it's a girl, huh?"

"Peter works for girls too," he says. I throw some popcorn from him. It lands on the blanket over his lap and he eats it. "Are you going to share any of that with me?"

"Get your own," I tell him. "This bowl is all mine."

"You really gonna make me get into my chair, roll all the way to the kitchen, dig a bag outta the pantry, put in the microwave, roll all the way back here, and get my crippled ass on the couch again?" he asks.

"Yup. I'm prego, son. And you're hogging the blanket."

We have a little fight over the blanket, each yanking on one end. We don't stop until Jasper comes in through the front door. I immediately turn away from Peter, beaming at the boy I love. It's a struggle for me to sit up, what with my stomach being the size of a house, but I manage. Jasper comes close and kisses me languidly.

"Honey, I'm home," he murmurs.

"Hi," I say, still smiling at him. I can't say I'm totally happy with this new course my life has taken, but Jasper remains the one thing I'm sure about. My love for him seems to consume everything and makes the bad parts bearable.

And there are bad parts. I had to differ school for a year. I went back for the summer semester, to get a few more credits under my belt and also just to get a final fix in case I don't make it back. Fuck, I want to go back. But it's not all about me.

Another bad part is Dillon. Charlie Swan recently opened up a Panther themed bar and grill. He was kind enough to give me a job for a couple months before I got giant. I felt like such an asshole, waddling around and delivering food and drinks, but we need the money. My position put me on display for all of Dillon. They sure pity Jasper now that he's stuck with Coach's wacko daughter. It would be worse, but the Panthers are doing really well this year. Still, their whispers are annoying.

Not being able to see my feet, that's another bad part.

"You look beautiful," Jazz tells me.

I snort. "I look fat," I correct. "Want some popcorn?"

"No fucking way," Peter mumbles, scowling at us. I smile at him sweetly as I push the bowl towards Jasper.

"Thanks, babe," he replies, taking a handful. "This will tide me over until I get enough energy to make dinner. Preparing for playoffs is exhausting work."

"I saved you some pasta," I say, moving to get up. "I'll heat it up for you."

"Sit, Alice," Jasper says, pushing me gently back down to the couch. "If I watch you waddle to the kitchen I'm gonna die laughin' and that will only make you mad."

I scowl at him as he moves away but he's right. Pregnancy looks ridiculous on me. I'm just so damn tiny.

"I can't believe I still have another month of this," I say, with a moan. I snatch the remote away from Peter. He tried to change the channel to fucking ESPN while Jasper had me distracted.

"Hey!" he yells.

"We're watching Project Runway tonight, Pete," I remind him.

"They are reruns and you already know who's gonna win and this is my damn house, woman!" he snaps. I can see Jasper glowering at his roommate through the doorway to the kitchen so I decide to make peace. "I'm gonna go smoke a cigarette! I'm gonna fuckin' do it!"

I scowl at him because I really miss cigarettes. A lot. Peter decided to quit when I first showed up pregnant. Solidarity and all that. Throwing it in my face now is just cruel.

"Here, keep your pants on," I say, shoving the popcorn at Peter. He nods and eats, so I know I'm forgiven. "You're going to miss me so much when we're gone."

"Doubt that," Peter says with a snort.

When the baby comes were going to move back in with Jasper's parents. We just can't afford to rent this place and we're going to need all the help we can get. Jazz may be an only child, but Mrs. Whitlock knows what she's doing at least. Coach wanted us to live with him, but it just doesn't make much sense. I don't want to intrude on the life he's making with Esme.

Oh Esme. She's been bugging me all fucking day to get a final head count for Thanksgiving.

"Pete, you coming to Thanksgiving or what?" I ask him.

"Naw, man. Goin' home. My grandmommy's trying to set me up with someone from her church. I'll be pretty entertaining to fuck with the poor soul," Peter says. I roll my eyes.

"You're gonna die alone, Pete," I tell him. He just shrugs.

I dig around in the blankets on the couch. Peter and I have been sitting here for hours. I've only gotten up to go to the bathroom like six thousand times. When I finally locate my phone, I call Esme.

"Hey, honey!" she greets. "How are you today?"

"Giant and uncomfortable," I reply. "The usual. I have the final count for next week."

"Great, lets hear it."

"Okay, so Jasper and me, obviously. Jasper's parent's and you guys to that's six. And then Rose, Em, Bella, and Charlie. Edward's going to be in Colorado. Football stuff, you know. How many is that?"

"Ten."

"Right, and there is just Phil and Mary Jane," I finish. "So that will be twelve total, right?"

"Twelve total," she repeats, sounding a whole lot less enthusiastic.

"Es, are you nervous about meeting M.J.?" I ask. It's probably too personal, but I don't want my dad's new lady to feel bad about meeting my mom.

"No! Not at all? Why would you even say that?"

Someone protests doth much, or whatever the fuck that quote is.

"No reason. If you were nervous I would tell you that my parents are both great but definitely not great together. They are nothing alike at all. They never loved each other or anything. And the way Coach looks at you… well, it's almost embarrassing from my perceptive, being as I'm his kid and everything," I tell her.

Esme laughs. "Okay, Alice. Thanks for that. I hope you're not too embarrassed."

"Mostly I'm just happy to see him so happy," I say.

"I'm happy about that too, Alice."

* * *

Bed time, cuddled down with Jasper. We stare at each other. I touch his chest. He touches my giant belly. I want him, but that's gotten really tricky now that I'm so huge.

I shuffle up to kiss him, hard and hot. Lips and teeth and tongue. It's heady and I want and want and want, but just the thought of climbing on top of him, straddling his waist and looking down at all my giant self is a huge turn off.

He moves his hand into my panties and I pull away, frustrated. We lie on our backs side by side, breathing heavy.

"Fucking fuck fuck," I yell, pounding the mattress in frustration.

"Alice," Jasper says, looking at me with faint amusement. "Relax. It's okay."

"It's not fucking okay," I reply, crossing my arms over my chest and scowling at the ceiling. "I hate being pregnant. My body doesn't feel like mine. It feels foreign and gross and I fucking hate it."

And scary. That's the main reason I'm acting like this. I am petrified that we won't be able to do this, that I won't be able to do this. I'm so fucking scared that I'm going to damage our kid beyond repair.

"Alice, you ain't gross."

His comfort is just irritating tonight.

"And I'm horny but the thought of you touching this gross, foreign body is sickening. How am I supposed to get off if my body is sickening to me?" I demand, well aware that I'm being an irrational asshole.

"I think you look stunning," Jasper replies.

I just let out a wary sigh. "It can't be like this for everyone. I'm broken. I'm a terrible mother already. What if I can't love our baby!"

By the end of this I'm a complete mess of tears and snot and terrifying thoughts. Jasper just holds me, offering as much reassurance as he can. This is not the first time I've broken down like this in the last couple months. Nothing he does can make it better. We just have to ride it out.

I can't imagine every feeling anything but scared ever again.

* * *

"You're fucking huge," Rosalie observes.

Thanksgiving now. Rose and I sit at the kitchen table while the boys watch football in the living room and the lady folk cook dinner. I'm too pregnant and irritable to help this year. Rosalie is too sucky at cooking to help any year. Bella, Mary Jane, Esme, and Mrs. Whitlock will do a fine job, I'm sure.

I'm going to eat so many things.

"And you have giant-ass tits," I reply. "What's your point?"

Rosalie just laughs and takes a good swig of her beer.

"When are you going to get married, Rose?" I ask, changing the subject. Talking about babies with Rose is creepy. She's fucking baby obsessed and bordering on jealous of my delicate condition. If she wants this so bad I don't get why she doesn't just marry her fiancé.

"I don't fuckin' know," she says, glaring down at her feet. "It's just so hard to figure out. There's not a whole lot of money, what with Emmett bein' a fuckin' child before I came along."

I roll my eyes because Em actually gave me a nuggie earlier today. Still a child, if you ask me.

"And we're just so damn busy what with me taking classes and basically doing all the business stuff at the shop. Plus, Emmett absolutely insists on Edward bein' there and all that boy does is play football."

"Rather selfish of him, wanting his little brother at his wedding. Some people, I swear," I reply, bein' just a little bit snarky.

"If you weren't so prego I'd smack you, bitch."

"It's a perk of being giant," I agree, taking a sip of my lemonade and staring at Rosalie's beer with envy. "Pretty much no one has smacked me since I got knocked up.

"If we don't finally tie the knot next summer I'm just draggin' that man to Vegas. I don't care what he says, I'm over this fiancé shit."

"Congratulations, I guess," I say, smiling. Rosie is tough but squishy at the same time. I know without her saying it that the longer the engagement lasts the more she worries that she won't ever get married.

Ridiculous fear, but I'm scared I won't love my own child so there you go.

"Back at you, I guess," Rose replies, grinning. The baby kicks at me and I shift in my seat, holding my stomach as I try to get comfortable. "Oh my God! Let me feel it? Can I? Please?"

I had to ban Rose from touching me without permission back when I first started to show. She just had her hands all over me all the time. I think Jazz was starting to get jealous.

"Yeah, why the hell not? It's the holidays, after all." She squeals and I wince. Her enthusiasm makes me feel worse about my discomfort.

"Hey, Alice?" she says, talking to me like she talks to my stomach. Baby talk. I hate that.

"Yeah, Rose?"

"If you tell anyone about my maybe elopement plans I'll poke your eyes out with a fork and steal your baby," she says in the same sugary voice.

"Okay then."

* * *

"So this is your first time in Dillon, Mary Jane?" Mrs. Whitlock asks as we all dig in. There are about three separate conversations happening, but I focus on this one. I couldn't think up two more different people than my mom and Jasper's mom.

"Yup. Second time in Texas. Last time I was only here long enough to get that one cooking," replies my mom, waggling my fingers in my general direction. I roll my eyes because we had a talk about this. I asked it to tone it down for the Dillon folk.

This is Mary Jane toned down, apparently.

"Ah, yes, well…" Poor Mrs. Whitlock is bright red. Jazz lets out a low snicker, his head bent towards his plate. "I hope you're enjoyin' your stay."

"We sure are. It's so good to meet everyone. Alice talks about you guys so much it's like we already know you all," Mary Jane says. She grins at me as if proving she heard my earlier lecturing.

I give her a sneaky thumbs up.

"That's good. We are basically family now," continues Mrs. Whitlock. "Well, almost."

She throws a little frown at me. I lift my chin in defiance.

"Mom, let me stop you right there," Jazz says, also knowing where this is going. "Just enjoy a nice meal."

"Of course, of course," says Mrs. W. She pokes at her meal, looking like she's going to pop. And then she does. "I just see absolutely no reason for y'all to not have a nice church wedding."

Jazz drops his fork with an angry clatter. I just sigh. That's another Dillon thing – people being up in arms about our lack of marriage or even marriage plans.

I'm fucking twenty years old. Fuck that marriage shit. One thing at a goddamn time.

"I know mistakes happen," Mrs. Whitlock continues. I watch M.J. stiffen. If I had more energy or motivation I would probably find a way to stop this train wreck. Instead I just keep eating. Food is good. "But there's really no excuse not to make things right in the eyes of God."

"Mom, that's some antiquated thinkin' right there. Just leave it alone. If we decide to get married it will be in our own time," Jazz says. I lean over and kiss his cheek because I know he thinks more like his mom than me on this issue. If he had his way we would have gotten hitched right after I told him everything last summer.

Still, he's protecting me. Respecting my wishes.

"Hear that, Mary Alice?" says my mom, scowling openly at Mrs. Whitlock now. "You're actually a mistake. I should probably just marry your dad down there, you know, to make things right in the eyes of God."

I can't help but grin slightly at that but then shake my head slightly, hoping that she's stop with that. Mrs. Whitlock mutters something and turns away deliberately talking to her husband.

"What's that M.J.?" Coach calls from the other end of the table.

"Nothing you old coot," replies my mom. "Eat your turkey."

Coach looks slightly amused but goes back to talking football with Emmett.

My parent's reunion made me smile. They hadn't seen each other since I was a little kid. M.J. hugged Coach, pleased to see him. He was stiff at first, but now they seem like old friends. I know there was never any real love between my parents, but I think they had friendship. Still do, apparently.

"I'm sorry," Jasper whispers in my ear. "I'll talk to her again."

"Don't bother," I say. "It's fine. Irritating, but nothing I can't handle. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being so damn wonderful."

More than anything, I'm thankful for that little bit of truth.

* * *

"What's your number, Al?"

"What? My weight? Probably about three hundred and sixty-five pounds at this point." I scowl down at my giant, awkward body before pulling on a Panthers t-shirt of Jasper's. He's already laid out in bed, waiting on me while I took a shower.

Thanksgiving exhausted me. We left early, even though the majority of our friends and family are probably still up, drinking and enjoying this time together. I just couldn't stand it. I need to go vertical, cuddled up next to Jazz. It's pretty much the only place my fear doesn't crush me.

"That's not what I mean," he mumbles.

I stand at the foot of the bed, watching him as I dry my hair with a towel. He doesn't look happy as his sits there, studying his hands in his lap. Come to think of it he did get awfully quiet after dinner, but I can't think of why.

Guess I'm going to find out.

"What do you mean, babe?" I ask, hanging up my towel before crawling in to bed. Even that is difficult.

"Your…uh… sex number?" he stutters, looking adorably uncomfortable.

"How many people have I fucked?" I clarify.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want. None of my business," he mutters, staring at his hands. I grab his chin and make him look at me.

"Hey, of course it's your business. We love each other like crazy and we're about to have a kid," I reply. It makes me feel bad when he feels bad. "Frankly, I'm surprised this hasn't come up sooner."

I lean back and try really hard to remember.

"Alice?"

"I'm counting."

"You have to count?" he sputters.

"Shit, Jazz. Not all of them were quite as memorable as you," I say, trying too soothe him.

More sputtering. Guess it wasn't as soothing as I intended.

"Eleven," I finally say.

"Eleven! That many?"

"Well, twelve including you," I reply.

"Why in the hell would we not be includin' me?" he demands, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering at me.

"I just thought it was assumed."

"I assumed I would be included."

"Jazz, don't freak. I was a wild child, okay?" This is totally not what I envisioned when we ducked out on Thanksgiving early.

"You're in the double digits," he hisses. I know it's bad because his ears turn pink.

"Jasper, you are my only serious relationship. The only boy I ever loved. Can we please not make a big thing of this?" I plead, so fucking tired. I just want to snuggle until I fall asleep all tangled around him.

"I'm not making it a big thing," he mutters, obviously making it a big thing.

The silence stretches. I have absolutely no idea what to say to him. Where the hell is this even coming from? Some insecurities I never even knew he had?

"So between the ages of fifteen when you told me lost your virginity and eighteen when you moved to Dillon you had sex with eleven dudes?" he asks.

"Who said they were dudes?"

He just blinks at me a lot.

"Jasper, what's this about?" I ask, resting my hand on his stomach and scooting my face as close to his as possible. "Why does any of that even matter?"

"I've only been with one other person. It's like I'm all at a disadvantage or somethin'," he mutters.

I take a deep breath to calm down. I try not to be cranky with him, but this issue just seems so stupid to me. Plus I thought we'd pretty much established that my upbringing was far from traditional. But this is hurting Jazz so I'll try to explain.

"Jazz, that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," I snap, irritated now. Guess the calming breathing didn't do me much good. "Since when is having a lot of meaningless sex a good thing? An advantage? Plus, mine are all faceless nobodies. You were in a committed relationship. And I have to be reminded she exists all the time."

His lips twitch in to a slight smile.

"She's one of your best friends," he murmurs.

"That is totally irrelevant," I reply petulantly.

"Do you ever think about what it would be like if someone else knocked you up?" he asks.

"No," I reply. "Fuck no. Why the fuck would I ever think about that? That is the most horrifying thing I've ever heard. Do you ever think about knocking up Bella? She'd be so much better than me a this."

"Alice, I don't want to talk about Bella."

"Than what the fuck do you want to talk about?"

Really, it's beyond me why this is even happening right now.

"I won't ever be able to run around with our kid in the backyard. There's gonna be no catch or nothin' like that," he says, sounding like the saddest person on the planet. And now I get it. I feel like an asshole for not understanding sooner.

I've been so wrapped up in my own fucking crazy I forgot to pay attention to his fears. Fuck, I'm such an asshole.

"Jasper," I say, turning his face towards mine. "You know that isn't what being a good dad is about. I can't even think about being pregnant with someone else. It's repulsive. I may have shared some physical stuff with some people a long time before I met you, but it doesn't matter because you changed everything."

I pause, stroking his cheek as I see him absorb my words.

"You are the only man in the whole world I would ever do this with because you are going to be amazing and I love you," I murmur. "Chair or no chair."

I'm not sure if he believes me or not. The important thing is that he believes I believe in him. That's enough for now.

I get my snuggling after that. It makes me feel better to see Jasper's insecurity and fear. It makes me feel better that he's willing to share that with me. If we can be as supportive of this kid as we are of each other than we might do a decent job at the whole parenting deal.

* * *

Bella's last day in Dillon. She leaves tomorrow morning. We've spent a good amount of time together over her break, and I'm going to miss her like crazy when she returns to Colorado.

"You look sad," I observe. We sit at the diner, eating breakfast. It's my favorite meal of the day. Little baby Whitlock likes eggs.

"I'm fine," Bella dismisses.

"Bella, come on. You aren't even eating your hash browns. That's a travesty."

With a heavy sigh, she sits back against the booth. "I miss Edward."

"Dude, you'll be reunited tomorrow. Surely you can last that long," I say. I hope I'm not that pathetic about Jasper.

I'm probably that pathetic about Jasper.

"Yeah, I know. It's just… things have been tricky lately," she confesses. I shake my head at her because it's been days and she hasn't brought this up. So typically Bella.

"Why?"

"Well, you know I'm studying abroad in Paris next semester," she reminds me.

I groan. "Don't remind me. I'm so fucking jealous of you I can't even think about it."

They have a lot of art in Paris, don't you know.

"I don't know if you'll like to hear this, but it was you that inspired me to actually do it," Bella says.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. I always thought I wanted to settle down and have kids young. But when you first found out about the baby you were just so heart broken about how different your life is now," she says.

I smile sadly. "I'm not so heartbroken anymore. Fucking terrified, but not so sad. I'll fucking get to Paris, Bella," I reply.

"I know," she says with a grin. "But I figure there is a lot I want to do. I want to travel. And I'm gonna do it now while life is givin' me the opportunity."

"And Edward doesn't like it?" I ask. Edward is definitely pathetic about Bella.

"No, he doesn't. He hasn't been anything but supportive, but I can tell he hates it. I would rather him just say he hates it than pretending he doesn't," Bella explains, obviously frustrated.

I decide I don't like this. The whole trouble in paradise thing.

"And…" Bella hesitates and I brace myself because it feels like its about to get worse. "I don't think he's happy. I don't think he likes Colorado or college football or school. I think he's just doin' it for me."

"Aw, Bella," I say, giving her hand a squeeze.

"I really thought that once he got there he would love it. The whole thing is just such a huge opportunity, but it's not worth it if he's unhappy. I'm scared that he thinks I'll only love him if he stays in school and gets a degree and all that," she says miserably.

There's not a lot I can say, but Bella just needs someone to listen.

"He's not tellin' me stuff, I can tell. Paris is only makin' it worse, but I can't not go. I have to go. I just do. When am I ever going to get a chance to live in Paris for five months?"

"Probably never."

"You and Edward are a lot a like you know," Bella says.

I can't do anything but blink at her. An image of Edward barreling down the football field flashes in my head and I decide she's crazy.

"It's true. Alice, have you told Jasper how much you hate Dillon?" she asks, making me squirm.

"I don't hate Dillon," I mutter.

"Yes, you do."

"Well, I am sure he knows my feelings," I reply. The only reason I'm getting so defensive is because I know she's right.

"Have you told him since you agreed to move back here?"

I just scowl at her.

"See, just like Edward."

I just stare at her, refusing to talk about this.

"I just want him happy and healthy and whole," she finally says.

"Don't we all want that," I murmur, hands on my big-ass belly. 'Don't we all."

* * *

**So things are getting better, right? She's still a little freaked but hey, I would be too.**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts.**


	19. New Life

**Alright, here we go. Let us meet baby Whitlock.**

**I don't own anything.**

**Thank you so much for reading.**

* * *

"I can't stop looking at him," I murmur. Never have I seen anything more beautiful. Never have I been more in awe. Looking away is just not an option. It would be like death.

"I know." I can tell by Jasper's voice that he feels the exact same. Awe. Wonder. A new brand of love so all consuming and unfathomable.

"Seriously, it might be a probably if I ever have to do anything again," I reply, still talking in hushed tone as the little baby snoozes in the crook of my arms.

Jasper's head rests on the edge of the narrow mattress. I wrap my free hand around his head, pushing my fingers through his soft blond hair.

"We did that, Alice," he whispers. This moment is too special for loud words. It's the first time the three of us are really getting to know each other all alone. "Can you believe we did that?"

I just shake my head.

Laying here like this, I'm not even scared anymore.

My inane fears of not loving this perfect little treasure are laughable now. I mean really, what the hell was I think?

Jasper reaches up, running his thumb over our baby's little cheek. The living breathing person that was in my belly not to long ago and is now in my arms yawns widely, gives a little gurgle, and then goes back to sleep.

The cuteness just about slays both Jazz and I. We oh and ah. My eyes are heavy because I'm so extremely tired, but I can't stop looking at him.

"Alice, he needs a name," Jazz reminds me.

"Any ideas?"

We've been arguing about this for months. Jazz and I have very different ideas about what makes a good name. He likes the classics, biblical names. I like weird things that would probably get my kid teased in his later years.

"Well, we can name him after someone," Jasper suggests. He himself was named after some great, great, great grandfather that fought (and died) in the Civil War. "That's a tried and true tactic."

"I guess," I reply, pouting slightly. "But I sort wanted his name to be his own."

We got silent for a moment as the little guy we made lets out the single most adorable yawn ever to have happened in the history of the planet. Everything he does is the cutest thing in the history of the planet.

"How about Dan?" Jasper asks when we recover form the cuteness of out child. I can tell by his tone that he's teasing but I seem to be missing the joke.

"Veto. Ew."

"Peyton?"

"No."

"John?"

I don't even bother replying to that one he's suggested it so many times.

"Elway?"

"Jazz…"

"Montana?"

"As in Joe?" I reply, finally understanding where he's getting these names.

"Brett. Or Favre's good too."

"Jasper, are you trying to name our kid after a football player? Is that what you're doing? Because you know that I don't know enough about that damn sport to even catch you doing it. Stop that right now," I say, glancing briefly at the boy I love.

The man I love.

The daddy I love.

The father of my child.

My insides get all warm.

"Well I don't hear you comin' up with any bright ideas."

"Titan," I suggest, being totally not serious.

"What?"

"Caravaggio."

"Alice—"

"Leonardo. Donatello. Goya."

"These have to be artist," Jasper says. "Leonardo da Vinci right?"

I roll my eyes, even as I keep looking at our kid. My lids get heavier. Of course good old Leo is the only one he recognized.

"What about Jackson?" I murmur.

"Another artist?"

"Yeah."

"Damn. I actually kinda liked that one. To bad I don't want you to make our son all fruity and artsy."

I smack at him playfully and he laughs.

"Jackson," he repeats, going back to staring at our child. Ours. His and mine. "Jackson?"

"Yeah. Jackson."

It feels right to both of us, and just like that the little child we made has a name.

A nurse comes in and takes my baby away. I pout for a minute, but fall asleep before I can even finish explaining how much I don't need to rest.

* * *

Tried becomes a permanent state.

The initial hullabaloo surrounding Jackson's dies down as we settle down into a nice little life, even if we're living with Jasper's parents. My mom flies away to be with Phil. Rosalie goes back to work. Bella and Edward go back to Boulder. Jackson was an early Christmas present for us all and we were surrounded by helping hands until New Years.

But then everyone goes back to their real lives, leaving me in Dillon to figure out what comes next.

My life becomes an endless parade of crying and cuddling and diapers. I still find myself staring at Jackson in awe, amazing that some so precious and big came out of me.

Still, when Mrs. Whitlock gets home from her job at the church in the early afternoon I pass off Jackson to his grandma and sleep like the dead till dinnertime. And then I learn to sleep when he sleeps.

Jasper is wonderful with Jackson. The baby can usually be found in Jasper's arms from the moment he gets home from work until it's time for bed.

Jackson starts sleeping through the night, and I have enough energy to be creative again. I start sketching Jackson in Jasper's hands. I fill a whole book with the two of them before I take to the canvas. Days get warmer and I set up on the beck deck, feeling the sun on my face and keeping Jackson close in a play pin at my side as I paint.

The first painting I complete of the two of them makes Mrs. Whitlock cry. She hangs it up in the living room. I'm touched and maybe a little bit embarrassed. We get along, despite her annoying tendencies, but this is the first sign that she likes me, that she accepts me.

I start doing portraits for the people of Dillon mostly because we really need the extra income but also because as I get better at being a mom I need something to fll my days. Usually it's just old people paying me to paint them young or with their pets or with their grandkids. It's mindless and doesn't feel like creation, but it keeps me busy.

Some days I feel discontent. Some days I want more. Some days I want to take up smoking again, even though I quit the moment I finished my first blurred together painting.

It hangs above our bed, the first blurred together painting.

All I have to do is look at Jackson or Jasper or even better Jackson held in Jasper's hands, and those feelings go away.

For the most part.

I keep painting, both for me and for other people.

A middle aged kindergarten teacher likes her portrait so much she has me come in to teach her kids a lesson once a week. This leads to a job at the YMCA teaching classes for little kids a couple times a week. I bring Jackson along, set him up in a corner with some toys. He's a big hit with the kids, and a lot of them draw him pictures. I hang them up above his crib in our room in Jasper's parents house.

It's good to have places to be, things to do, even if I still don't really feel like a part of this community.

Summer approaches and so does registration for classes at Pratt. I don't want to think about it. My life is in Dillon now.

Dillon, Texas.

I wonder if I will ever turn in to these women. Rosalie is really the only one I like.

But Dillon is where Jasper is, and I could never leave Jasper.

* * *

"My mom is driving me crazy," Jasper says with a groan. He sits on our bed, propped up against the headboard. He keeps a watchful eye on Jackson. At almost five months, he's already rolling over. It looks like his blue eyes and blond aren't the only things he got from his daddy. My little dude is going to be quite the athlete. I know it.

"She's not so bad," I reply, throwing dirty clothes in the hamper and putting away toys. It amazes me how quickly this place gets trashed.

"She is, Alice. She is so bad. Never did I think you'd be defending the woman."

"Pat's cool."

"Pat?"

"We're finally on a first name basis now," I reply.

"Her name is Patricia," he says.

"I like nicknames."

"Alice, she made my lunch today."

'That's nice," I say, enjoying how flustered he is.

"She wrote a note on the paper sack I didn't see till I was sittin' down with the whole coachin' staff!" he shouts, making me giggle. "She called me pumpkin and told me she loved me! I'm not a child! I can make my own damn lunch."

It's funny how some things don't change. The thought of Jazz getting teased for being a mama's boy by my father and the rest of the coaches makes me smile.

"She just likes taking care of you," I say. Jackson blows a raspberry and then giggles at himself. Jasper gives him a quick tickle. "See, that's Jackson agreeing with me."

"Alice, come 'ere. All that running around is makin' me dizzy."

I pull on my sleepy time clothes, drop a pair of jeans in the hamper, and do as he says.

"Hi," he murmurs, putting his arm me. I lay my head on his should at let him kiss me until I can't see straight and Jackson makes all his baby sounds between us.

"Hello to you too, baby," I say, kissing Jackson's red little cheeks. He looks so much like his daddy already. My son giggles and grabs my hair. I need to cut it. It's grown passed the bottoms of my ears. That's way long for me.

Jasper rubs the back of my neck with his thumb.

"The last day to register for the summer session at Pratt is Friday," Jasper says, talking quietly as to not startle me.

"How do you know that?" I ask.

"I talked to James," he confesses.

I stare at him with opened mouthed shock.

"You called him?" My best friend in New York does not understand what I'm doing in Texas. He thinks I'm wasting my life and my talent and my passion. We don't talk much anymore.

"Well, I tried Millie first," Jazz says with a rueful smile. "But she didn't answer so James it was. I don't think he liked hearing my voice instead of yours."

"You stole my phone," I mutter, still shocked. "Why would you do this? What does it matter when the last day to register at Pratt is?"

"Because I think you should go for the summer," he says, looking gloomy.

I just blink at him, totally surprised.

"Alice, I worry that you do nothing for you."

"I paint. Taking care of Jackson is for me to. Being with you. Those are all things for me," I reply. I don't want him to think I gave up my whole life to be with him, because that's just not how it is. I love him. Braving Dillon is worth it for me.

"I know. I know that, I do," he says. I can feel him watching me watch Jackson. I can't bring myself to look at him. I thought I was doing such a good job, hiding those days when I miss art school so much I can barely stand it. "But you miss it. We can make this summer work."

"How?" I snap, not liking the way he's getting my hopes up.

"Listen, I have it all worked out," he says.

Of fucking course it does. Of fucking course he worked it out without even consulting me.

"Don't look at me like that," he says, reading my thoughts. "I didn't make any plans without you. I just looked in to it, seeing if things could possibly work out. James told me that the second summer session lasts two months, June and July. That professor you like so much is teaching a course on something. I forget what, but James says you haven't taken it already and it's a requirement for your major. I can go with you, for at least the first month. Maybe the first month in a half, depending on how long your father thinks he can spare me. You'll be in class all day and I'll stay with Jackson. We'll stay at Phil and Mary Jane's place and I'm thinkin' the rent with them will be pretty alright. It can work, Alice."

"But, but… but." I sputter like an idiot, trying to think of an excuse not to go even though I want it more than pretty much anything.

"Plus, it'll be great to get away from my crazy mother, remind her I'm not longer in the 3rd grade."

I smile and tell him I'll think about it.

I can't tell him my biggest worry. I can't tell him that I'm scared that if I go to New York I'll want to stay forever. I worry that I won't be able to force myself to come back.

* * *

**So we're moving pretty quickly now. A lot happening in this one. Only about four or so more chapters. I know, it makes me sad too.**

**Review! If you feel like it.**


	20. More Than Anything

I'm not very good at multitasking, but I'm sure having fun doing it. Jackson is perched on my hip as I dance around his new nursery. He's seven months old and already so huge I can see the day I won't be able to do this anymore. He's been such a handful since he started crawling while we were in New York this summer. Baby proofing my mom's penthouse was not fun.

Jazz insisted that we get our own place now that we're back in Texas. I begrudgingly agreed, even if renting our own apartment makes it more real. Makes my future and my life in Dillon more real.

Our landlord said we could paint the walls. I'm not sure if he had this sort of mural in mind, but it's better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission. I'm busy painting Jackson's room into a wonderland of forests and oceans and mountains. Of fairy tale creatures and little men playing football on the beach. I did that to appease Jazz. He grumbles about the room being too girly, but he's enchanted with it. I can tell.

I'm not totally getting a lot done this afternoon, jumping around to music with Jackson on my hip as I haphazardly smear my brush around on a wall.

But like I said, a lot of fun doing it.

And fun has become extra important now that I'm back in Texas. This summer was just so perfect for me, even if Jazz was probably bored to death. I miss it so much I ache, but I'm determined to not let it get me down.

"Damn, you're pretty." I turn around to see Jasper watching us in the doorway with a dreamy smile on his face. At the sound of his daddy's voice, Jackson stretches his chubby baby arms towards Jazz, wiggling in my arms until I set him down. The speed with which he crawls towards Jazz is truly impressive. Jackson uses Jasper's legs to pull himself up until Jazz brings him into his lap.

"Da, Da, Da," Jackson chortles happily. I try not to be jealous that this was his first word.

"Did you forget about the Back to School Barbeque?" he asks.

"Nope," I reply, my good mood souring at the thought of spending the evening schmoozing with the good people of Dillon.

"We should really get goin'. Best get yourself ready, Ali," he says.

"I am ready," I reply, scowling at him.

He raises an eyebrow. "You've got paint all over you."

I glance down at his old Panthers t-shirt that hangs almost to my knees. I pull it off over my head and let it drop next to me.

"Now I'm ready." Black tank top. Tight jeans with only one hole and a couple paint splashes. I cross my arms over my chest and lift my chin, daring Jasper to comment. I'm never going to be like the Barbies with the big hair that stalk around this town. He best not be trying to turn me into one of them.

"Come 'ere," he says. I approach with caution, regarding him warily. He gestures for me to bend closer and I do. He wipes at my cheek with his thumb, coming away with a drop of blue paint.

"There," he whispers. "Now you're ready."

* * *

Rosalie doesn't show and Jasper is immediately accosted by the boosters who pull him away from my side. I secure Jackson more firmly on my hip and try not to look too pissed off.

I hate it here. This is the worst of it. The football itself isn't so bad, but the bizarre culture of this town that has sprung up around it makes me ill.

"Okay, Jax," I murmur, kissing his little towhead. "Into the viper's den."

It's probably shameful, the way I use my baby as I buffer. I keep him in my arms as a sort of shield between me and the women of Dillon who either want me to be just like them or want someone more suitable for the wheelchair-bound local town hero turned football coach. Pat offered to stay home with Jackson but I was having none of that. I need him as an excuse to get out of here early.

All the football moms and boosters' wives gush about how much Jackson looks like Jazz. My kid is such a little flirt already and he loves the attention. He giggles and claps and chatters and gets all coy and I don't have to do anything other than try not to look too uncomfortable.

With all attention on Jax very little is required from me.

It gets harder not to get uncomfortable when these ladies start to talk about how they can't wait to see Jackson following in his father's foot steps, becoming a Panther.

I don't like the idea of Jackson growing up with all that unhealthy hero worship. I don't like it at all.

I get quite and withdrawn.

Esme finds me and wraps her arms around both me and my son. I sink into her a little bit, missing the comfort of my own mother. When she pulls away she looks at me with concern. A small frown mars her pretty face. When she asks what's wrong I mostly tell the truth about being overwhelmed by all that is Dillon.

Even after the party, I stay quiet and withdrawn. Jasper asks me what's wrong, much like Esme, but I can't tell him. I don't have the heart to let him know what's going on inside me. He'll take it wrong, think that I don't love our little family.

Because I do.

More than anything.

* * *

As football season starts up and I go back to teaching art lessons at the community center, my summer at Pratt starts to feel like a dream. The need to create leaves me, followed by the ability to do anything real. My hands seem only able to move mechanically, helping little kids or painting portraits for Dillon folk. I forget to worry about how Jasper feels on the third anniversary of his accident. Rosalie calls and I ignore her. Esme calls and I ignore her too. The only time I don't have to worry about faking it is when I'm alone with Jackson or making love with Jasper.

But even during those times I'm still quiet and withdrawn. I start to believe that this is the new me. I start to get used to it.

* * *

My cheek is against Jasper's naked chest. We sit up against the headboard in silence. He holds me close and I study his hands, running my fingertips over his skin and wishing that I want (need) to draw them the way I once did. For a few blissful moments moving above Jazz, the ecstasy of being joined with him made me feel alive and vibrant. That's fading now. I go back to quiet.

Still, right here with him so warm and secure next to me, I feel like I'm home. That person that insisted on keeping him at arms length two years ago while I was at school seems to far away now. I know beyond any doubts that I don't want to be away from him.

I get sleepy and close my eyes, resting my hand low on his abdomen where I know he can still feel my touch.

"Alice?" he murmurs.

"Hum?" I reply, already halfway asleep.

"You're… you ain't happy," he says, talking in hushed tones. I sit up with a jerk, totally stunned by his simple, earnest statement.

After staring at him for a long moment I try to play it off like a joke. "What are you crazy?" I ask, grinning at him. "Of course I'm happy. After what you just did to my body? Happy doesn't even begin to cover it."

And that's true. I am happy with him. I am more than happy with him. I'm blessed.

"Alice, come on. I've been doin' a lot of thinkin' about this. Please don't lie to me."

I'm not lying to him. I'm too busy lying to myself, trying to fit in here in Dillon. This conversation is really threatening my denial.

"Listen," he continues when I can't manage to do anything but gape at him. "Way back before Jax when geography was keepin' us apart I foolishly thought that if you just gave life in Dillon a shot you'd come to love it."

"Well, I don't know about _love_," I mumble, getting defensive. "But it certainly isn't that bad."

And most of me thinks it isn't that bad. If I was someone else, if art school was never something I wanted, Dillon really wouldn't be all that bad.

"No, Alice," Jazz says, shaking his head at me. "I was wrong."

"So what are you saying?" I snap, crossing my arms over my chest. "Things are the way they are and talking about them like this isn't going to change anything so what's the point!"

"The point is I think we should move to New York," he replies, looking just as pissed off as I am.

I stare at him for a good minute, processing his words. For one brief little moment I want to throw my arms around him and sob into his chest with joy, but then my practical side takes over.

"Oh and just how the fuck would that work?" I yell, hating him a little bit for the false hope. "What are we going to do for money, huh? What are you going to do all day while I'm making no money at art school? What about Jackson? What about the Panthers?"

Jasper's blue eyes narrow at me. For one little moment I think he's going to scream right back at me. Good. I want it. Maybe it will explain what the hell he's thinking.

"I'm going to bed," he says, abruptly turning off the light.

I'm left feeling alone in the dark, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

* * *

**I just realized that I kinda named baby Whitlock after myself. Is that weird? Yes, probably.**

**Have a little patience with Alice.**

**I love you all for reading.**

**See you next time.**


	21. Day in the Life

**Everyone who reviews is so wonderful. Thanks for that.**

**Thanks for reading, too.**

**I don't own anything.**

* * *

"When's the game?" I ask, smiling at Jackson as he gets my thumb in his mouth. I remove it gently and give him a good snuggle.

"6:05. You gonna go with Rose and Em?" Jasper moves closer, a wheel of his chair nudging my calf as he rests his knuckles against the skin of my lower back exposed as I lean over our son on the bed.

Since he blindsided me with the totally unrealistic suggestion that we leave Dillon six days ago, things have gone back to normal. We are both pretending the little fight never happened. I think I've finally made him see that art school just isn't going to work for me. It's about time we both accept that this is our life now.

"Yeah, Rose is having me over for an early dinner before so I might actually be dead by the time the game starts," I reply, continuing to get Jackson dressed.

"I'm sure it ain't _that _bad."

I give him a pointed look until he chuckles and grins. It still melts me a little every time, that grin.

"Well, don't eat too much then, baby. I don't know if it's clear but I'm quite fond of havin' you around," he says, his voice getting soft at the end.

"Of course you are," I murmur, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "I can cook."

He chuckles again and it warms me up.

"Do you want a ride to the school? I have a meeting with that one old biddy from your church with all the chins. She wants a painting of herself in her prime when she was all young and hot and Texas," I say, handing Jax off to his daddy and moving to our closet to rummage around for a pair of shoes.

"You don't mind waiting around for me after the game?" Jasper calls.

I emerge from the closet and pause for a moment to take in the beautiful sight Jasper with our son in his arms. Jackson sits up against his daddy's chest and smacks his little hands against Jasper's arm. They look so much alike. It's my whole world right there. My whole wide world.

I didn't even know it was possible to love this much.

"Alice?" Jasper snaps me out of my little day dream and looks at me with mild concern. "You still here with us, honey?"

"Yeah, sorry. We can wait after the game." I hope around on one foot, trying to get on my Converse sneaker without sitting down or untying the laces. "Jackson falls asleep better in his car seat anyway."

* * *

When I drop Jazz off at the high school I roll my window down and yell "have a good day, honey!" at the very top of my lungs. The high schoolers loitering around the front of the school snicker, but Jasper turns his whole chair around to blow me a kiss.

I savor these little moments. It'll be the highlight of my day given all the Dillon townspeople I'm going to be interacting with in the coming hours.

First up is Carol Clarke, an older women who saw a portrait I did of Jesus for the church last month.

Yeah, I'm not kidding. The pastor at Jasper's church commissioned me to paint a portrait of Jesus H. Christ, all pale skinned and blue eyes. The old Alice would probably have done something pretty subversive – maybe painted him totally naked with a giant cock – but new Alice recognizes that alienating the Dillon-folk will only make life miserable.

Anyway, Clarke liked my paint-by-the-numbers Jesus so here I am.

Apparently in her hay day she was some sort of beauty queen. She definitely has the look of someone trying way too hard to hold onto that youth (despite all the chins). The makeup is really caked on and she looks on at my casual outfit of jeans and tank top with distaste.

Well I don't like giant ass hair so I guess we're square.

She spends some time cooing over Jackson, talking about how much he looks like his daddy. That's all fine, until we get on the topic of the father of my child.

"I tell you what, Miss Alice, there's been some talk about just how wise it is to have your Jasper back with the Panthers," she tells me.

"Oh?" I say, taking my son out of her arms because I don't like where this is going.

"It's understandable, given how Jasper is now. And he obviously has a close relationship to Coach Masen. Even so… They lost last season," she reminds me. Somehow I manage to keep from rolling my eyes.

I want to dump the Coke she forced upon me when I got here all over her pastel suit. But living in Dillon I've developed a new mantra: what would Jasper do? I chant it now and manage to keep my cool. Jazz would want me to be polite. Jazz would tell me to ignore her crap and get paid. Because we really do need the money.

"You can't win state every year," I point out.

She blinks at me a lot. "What a ridiculous thing to say." Again, I hold in my snort because it's what Jazz would do. "Well, anyhoo. Let's get started. I was thinkin' about using these shots. That's the year I won the title, don't you know."

I look at the pictures of Carol Clarke in her glory days and even manage to fake a little interest.

* * *

"And then, I shit you not, she demanded I make her boobs bigger and her waist smaller," I say, brandishing a margarita as I rage about my most recent ridiculous client. "What does Carol fucking Clarke think I am? Fucking Photo Shop?"

Emmett lets out a big belly laugh. He sits next to me at the breakfast bar with Jackson on his lap. We both watch Rosalie attempt to make dinner. Thankfully she recognizes her own weakness and our entrée will be enchiladas prepared by her mother. Even Rosalie can manage to pop them in the oven.

The heaping bowl of guacamole that sits between Em and I on the counter isn't half bad.

"Should you really be cursin' in front of the b-a-b-y," she says, spelling out this final word. Emmett laughs again and I just scowl at her as she takes a huge scoop of guac on a chip and shoves it into her mouth.

"Are you listening to my bitch-fest at all?" I ask, pouting.

"Yes, Alice," Rosalie says, sounding somewhat exasperated. "I've been listenin' for the last nine months when you first started this portrait thing. I just don't get why you ain't used to it yet. I don't get why your surprised that these vain old women act all desperate to remember their youth."

I just go back to pouting, knowing that she's right and not liking it. Will I ever get used to it?

Ten minutes later we all migrate to the kitchen table. I have a bowl of Spanish rice in one hand, a bowl of refried beans in the other. Rose was solely responsible for this part of the meal and I regard the side dishes warily as I set them down.

Emmett struggles to get Jackson into his highchair. The fact that there is even a high chair at the Cullen house, purchased at Goodwill just for my son, is heart warming. Unlike the rest of Dillon, right here with Emmett and Rosalie, I feel totally welcome and loved.

We take our seats as Rose starts to dish out enchiladas.

"That smells so good, baby," Emmett moans.

"You can thank my mother," Rosalie replies dryly.

"Is that meat?" I ask, frowning as I observe the food on Emmett's plate.

"This end is cheese," Rosalie says, rolling her eyes. "I have no idea why I cater to your unnatural lifestyle, you little veggie freak."

"Thank you, Rosie," I say, grinning as she gives me way more food than I could ever even think about eating. I give Jax a litte rice when it cools.

"Here's to Alice's old biddies," Emmett declares loudly when Rose sits. He raises his beer for a toast. "May they always pay Alice lots of money to make themselves feel hot!"

"Huzzah," Rose says with a snort.

I raise my own glass and grin. Talking it out with Emmett and Rose never fails to brighten my mood and put shit in perspective.

"Shit, this food tastes like God's come," Emmett says, making me snort.

"Emmett!" Rosalie screams. "The b-a-b-y! Not in front of the b-a-b-y!"

It's good to know I'm not the only freak in Dillon.

* * *

"Yo, you coming, Alice?" Emmett asks as I get Jax out of his car seat.

"No," I call across the parking lot when I spot Em and Rose loitering a few spaces away by his truck. "I'm meeting Jazz here. He forgot his favorite whistle."

Emmett laughs and slings an arm over his wife's shoulders.

"We'll find Esme and save you a seat," Rosalie yells. I wave as they depart.

"Where's your daddy?" I ask Jackson quietly, scanning the area. There are people all over, grilling, drinking, laughing. Tailgating, that's what Jasper calls it.

I only spend a few minutes watching the festivities before Jasper emerges. It takes him a really long time to finally get to me because he's stopped every few feet by some fan either wishing him luck or giving him some unneeded piece of coaching advice. He's charming even to the men who think they could lead the Panthers straight to state even though they have no idea.

"Hey, baby," he says when he finally reaches me. He tilts his face up, obviously wanting a kiss that I very happily give him. "Hey, big-guy!" Jasper says, reaching for Jackson now.

"Da, Da, Da!" Jackson chatters away as he eagerly goes into his daddy's waiting arms.

"Did you bring it?" Jasper demands, looking at me after giving Jax a good hug.

"Is that all you care about?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest as I tease him. "Your stupid lucky whistle? No, 'I love you, Alice'? No 'how was your day, baby?'"

He grins up at me and I lose my train of thought for one little moment.

"I love you, Alice," he says quite seriously despite his big stupid smile. He grabs my hand and brings it to his cheek. "How was your day, baby? Now where's my damn whistle?"

"Such a charmer," I mutter, reluctantly breaking contact with him as I fish the stupid thing out of my pocket. I dangle it just out of his reach. He swipes at it twice before letting out a huff of frustration.

"I woulda never took you for a bully, Alice Masen," he says, grinning so I know he's just teasing me. "Pickin' on the helpless boy in the wheelchair."

I roll my eyes and let out a snort at that. Helpless my ass. He works hard to be more self-sufficient than most people with all their limbs working in proper order.

"You love this bully," I murmur, bringing my face close to his.

"I love my lucky whistle."

He kisses me then and doesn't stop when I put his stupid fucking whistle in the palm of his hand.

"What have we here?"

I lift my head really not pleased that our private little moment has been interrupted. Slowly I straighten as Jazz turns his chair around. As is standard for me here in Dillon, I immediately go on the defensive, crossing my arms over my chest and crafting my face into a neutral expression as I shut down. It's probably just some townie, either disapproving of me or here to tell Jazz how to coach the quarterbacks.

"Banner?" Jasper says, sounding both surprised and elated. I take it the giant stranger with critical eyes. Nope, definitely haven't met this guy. "Rob Banner?"

"Jasper Whitlock," he says with a smile. His friendly expression and obvious delight to see Jazz makes me relax fractionally as the giant approaches. This guy has to be a football type, with the size of his neck. I hate being around the football types sometimes. They are all so much bigger than me. It makes me feel small. "Sup, baby?"

He leans down somewhat awkwardly to embrace Jasper. Given the chair and the baby they do all right with that hand shake, back slapping, sorta hugging thing guys do.

"I thought you might be too big time now that you're goin' pro to say hello to your old quarterback," Jasper says good-naturedly.

"Yeah, it's been a long time. You know when I heard, I wanted to come see you but we had Florida in the swamp that weekend—"

What the hell is he talking about? Heard what? Ah, right. The accident. Obviously.

"Don't worry about it," Jasper replies, shaking his head as he continues to smile. "Don't you worry about it. You know watching you guys hand the Gators their asses that weekend was probably the best thing that happened to me." Jasper pauses and looks over his shoulder at me, his expression softening. "Well, maybe the second best."

That ever so rare for me blush tints my cheeks. That was the weekend I first asked if I could draw him.

"Banner," Jasper says, gesturing for me to stand by him. He rests his fist against my hipbone when I move closer. "This is my Alice."

He always introduces me this way. It's never his girlfriend or his baby momma. Just my Alice. The description is perfect to me.

"Ali, Rob graduated a year before we did. We had three good years together as Panthers before this one left to play college ball," Jasper explains.

Ah, that's why I don't know him.

"Hello," I say, giving him an awkward little wave.

"Hey there," he says, giving me a wide smile. "It's mighty fine to meet you. And who's this?"

Rob Banner seems to notice our son in Jasper's lap for the first time. I lay a hand on Jasper's shoulder and watch my boys, marveling as I do so often at my little family.

"This is Jackson," Jasper says, just about bursting with fatherly pride. "Our son."

"Well look at him," the giant replies. "You done good, Jay. You got yourself a great lookin' family."

Most people in Dillon don't include me in the "you done good, Jay," sentiment. They adore Jackson but me? Not so much. I decide I like Rob Banner a whole lot.

"Thanks, man," Jasper replies. "From what I've heard you're doin' pretty damn good yourself."

Rob Banner gives a cocky grin before we hear his name being called from across the parking lot. Yet another dude joins us. I study him with great interest because he must be the only person I've ever seen at a Panther game to show up in a suit. A really expensive suit too, from the look of it.

"Excuse me, Jazz, Alice," Rob says, patting Mr. Suit on the shoulder. "This is my man, right here. My soon-to-be-agent, Mr. Grant Halbert."

"All you gotta do is sign, baby," says Mr. Grant Halbert, running a hand over his slicked-back hair. "We can drop the soon-to-be."

Mr. Grant Halbert nods politely at both of us, but it's obvious he isn't really all that interested.

"Jay here was my quarterback here at Dillon," Rob Banner explains. I resist the urge to look at my watch. All I wanted to do is find the only people I like in Dillon in the stands. "To this day, the best quarterback I've ever seen."

I can tell by Jasper's expression that he's touched. Hell, even I'm touched, but it's so tragic at the same time.

"I mean," Rob continues. "He had the cannon and the best sports mind of anybody I know."

None of this is really new news, but it's a nice little reminder that Jasper is special. It's not just the weird hero worship thing of Dillon. He's not a myth. He's the real deal, even if the cannon part isn't so true anymore.

"It's nice to meet you, sir," says Jasper, polite as ever as they shake hands. If there was some non-awkward way for me to slip out of here and take Jackson with me I would.

"Right on, man," says the slick Mr. Grant Halbert. I have to hold in a snort because this dude is like forty but is using the lingo of his much younger clients anyway. "Played QB myself down the road at Westerby."

This does surprise me. Everything about this guy just reeks East coast, but I guess he too is a Texas boy.

"Then a little division two down in Iowa after that," Mr. Grant Halbert continues.

"Yeah, you graduated and became an agent?" Jasper asks. Again, I have to stifle a sigh that Jazz is prolonging this interaction. But he actually likes people, likes talking to them. In some ways we are so unalike.

"I didn't have the armor to go pro so I did the next best thing."

"Really?" replies Jasper.

"Absolutely, man," Mr. Grant Halbert says, nodding a lot. "Get to talk Football all day. Friends with some of the greatest players in the world. And the money's pretty great."

Jasper looks like he could talk to this guy all day, but thankfully Rob Banner has some sense to be equally bored with this conversation.

"Jay, we should get in there. And don't you have a game to coach?" he asks.

"Yeah," Jasper replies. "Just had the little lady bring me my lucky whistle." He holds it up and they both laugh. I roll my eyes at the little lady thing. There will be words between us later about that one.

"Damn, it was great to see you," Rob says, backing away towards the entrance to the stadium.

"You keep in touch, okay?" Jasper replies.

Rob runs off the join someone across the parking lot while Jasper and I both catch Mr. Grant Halbert staring at the chair.

"Price of glory," he murmurs. Jasper nods. "Listen, Jasper, it was great to meet you. If you're ever in the Big Apple, ring me up."

He hands Jasper a card.

"Hey," he says, noticing Jackson only because he makes a grab for the card. "Cute kid."

And then he's gone too.

"All right," I say, plucking Jackson out of Jasper's lap. "Emmett's going to think I ditched them and your players are probably missing you."

Jazz is just staring at the card.

"Jazz?" I say, nudging him slightly. He blinks up at me, his mind obviously a million miles away. "The game?"

"Arrow," he murmurs, showing me the card. I glance at it before I go back to staring at him, not getting what he's trying to tell me at all. "Arrow Sports. Isn't that Phil's agency?"

"I don't have any freaking clue," I say because I really don't.

"They are smaller, but have a good rep for really giving their clients personal attention."

"Is that right?" I reply, really having no interest in anything that just happened in the last ten minutes. When the sports talk starts up, I totally tune out. "Jazz, the game?"

"Right," he says, jumping a little when he realizes that he's the parking lot and not in the field house. "Right! I gotta go."

He cranes his neck, a single I learned long ago means he wants me to lean down for a kiss. He gives me and Jax both quick pecks before he's off, moving at a speed that is truly impressive.

* * *

**So it's all coming together now, especially for those of you who are reading _Under These Lights. _**

**The dialogue in the last section between the guys was straight out of the show. I really do not own that.**

**Questions? Comments? Concerns?**


	22. To Do

**This took forever. I know and I'm sorry. Family emergency. It's just been a rough couple of weeks. The messages and reviews asking for updates made me smile.**

**The rest of the reviews made me smile, too.**

**So there's only another chapter and an epi here. Hopefully I'll update next week.**

**Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading and reviewing and all that.**

**I don't own.**

* * *

"Are you sure?" I sit cross-legged in the middle of our bed, pouting as I watch him dig around in our closet. "It's six whole days and a home game."

"Honey," he says with a laugh. "I'm sure."

"Don't you want us to be at the game?" I ask as I admire the chiseled planes of his chest and arms as he pulls his coaches polo up over his head. Knowing how much I love his upper body he tends to sleep shirtless every night.

"Course I do," he replies, giving me an easy smile as he pushes towards the bed. "I want you everywhere I am. But I also want you happy and meetin' your mama in Hawaii for a couple days is sure to make you happy."

"It has been kinda awhile since I've seen her and Phil," I say, still torn despite his reassurance. "But being with you makes me happy, too."

"I love you, Ali," he says.

I grin like an idiot. "Right back at you, dude," I reply.

"Go to Hawaii. I'll be okay on my own. Plus, I've got shit to do," he says.

"Shit to do?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Shit to do," he says with a shrug. I can't imagine what the hell he's talking about but it's probably not anything anyway.

"Come to bed, baby," I murmur, crawling towards the edge of the bed in what I hope is a seductive manner. "Let me show you how much I'm going to miss you."

He touches my cheek and gives me a searing kiss. I actually whimper and pout when he pulls away.

"Give me five minutes," he replies, backing away. "I want to peak in at Jax. Hate gettin' in this late, not bein' here for bedtime."

I gaze at him in a way that I'm sure is embarrassingly adoring, but I don't really care because in some ways this imperfect life we've built in this town I hate is actually totally perfect. Just hearing Jazz talk about our son is enough to remind me of that.

I turn off the bedside light, pull off my oversized Panthers tee, and light a candle. As I wait I get sleepy and end up curled up naked against the pillows rather than posed like a sexual buffet

The longer I wait the more time my boys spend together so I really don't mind, even if I am all dozy by the time Jazz comes back. I watch, feeling all sleepy and warm as Jasper transfers from his chair to the bed with the sliding boards stored between the bed and the nightstand. This activity that would be odd to most is routine to us.

I like the way his arm muscles tense and bulge as he gets himself situated next to me. Sitting up against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him, he leans over and traces my lower lip with his thumb.

"Tired?" he asks.

I shake my head, maintaining eye contact with him even as he slowly leans closer. His kiss steals my breath and coaxes me out of my fetal position. His hands wander and I open to him.

What starts out as gentle and tender quickly turns insistent and needy. He touches me in all the right places, knowing just what I need. My hands work their way into his hair and crawl into his lap when I can't handle the distance between us anymore.

Jazz continues to work his magic with those beautifully curled fingers. I don't want to stop kissing him but I have to for a moment when I get distracted by the orgasm that seems to build in every part of my body.

I whimper his name and rest my forehead against his as I ride it out.

"Fuck, Alice," he manages between panting breaths. "My Alice."

I smile, shifting slightly to pull his pants down his hips, and then we achieve that total perfection.

Together.

All I need.

* * *

"Jesus," I mutter under my breath, shifting Jackson a little more firmly on my hip. I must look ridiculous, weighed down by luggage and baby as I make my way to the curb at the airport. But we're only here for a few days so it isn't much. Mostly Jackson's stuff.

Babies need a lot of stuff, turns out.

"Mary Alice!" M.J. shrieks when she gets out of the limo and sees me. Pretty much everyone loitering around turns to stare. She's very loud and certainly doesn't look like she's belongs in a limo with her hippie attire. "Jackson!"

"Hey, Mom," I say as she plucks my son out of my arms and gives me a loud, smacking kiss. Right on the lips. "A limo? Is that really necessary?"

M.J. waves a hand dismissively as she kisses Jackson all over. My son squeals and giggles, happy for the attention as usual.

"I'll enjoy the perks of falling in love with an obscenely wealthy man as long as he donates an acceptable amount to my charitable causes," she says, hustling me towards the unnecessarily opulent vehicle. "You'll like it when I get you in the air conditioning and we pop the champagne."

She's right. This limo stuff ain't so bad. Plus it's apparently quite a ride to the secludedhouse M.J. and Phil are renting for the next month in celebration of the end of baseball season.

Except Phil's team didn't make the playoffs for the first time in like a thousand years so it's really more like he's nursing his wounds but whatever.

My five day trip to Hawaii certainly shows how much I'm enjoying the perks of M.J. falling in love with an obscenely wealthy man.

Jackson in a car seat in a limo makes me giggle. I dig out a camera as M.J. continues to coo over her grandchild.

"How's Jasper?" she asks when we're settled.

"Wonderful," I reply, absolutely beaming.

"How's Dillon?"

My smile fades.

"Slightly less wonderful."

M.j. just laughs. She knows my opinion on living in Dillon. Knows how the town pisses me off and how being with my family makes everything worth it.

"How's Coach?"

"Good," I say, smiling again. "Happy. In love."

M.J.'s smile lights up her whole face.

"And Rosalie?" she presses, jumping from one thing to another in typical Mary Jane fashion. I'm thankful I do not get my attention span from my mother. "Is she pregnant yet?"

Now I'm laughing. "Not quite yet," I reply.

"What is your boy going to do without you for the next five days?" she asks.

_Shit to do. _Jasper's words flicker through my head for no apparent reason. I don't understand why his harmless little joke

"Work," I reply. "Sometimes I think Coach is trying to keep us apart."

"I highly doubt that, little girl," M.J. replies. "Your father just so happens to worship you and your baby daddy."

Damn, I love my mom. She says shit like baby daddy, rides around in limos, and somehow manages to understand everything.

"I missed you, Mary Jane," I murmur, scooting closer to her and cuddling into her side.

"Back at you, baby," she replies, kissing my hair and wrapping my arms around my shoulders. "Love, love, love you."

* * *

Speaking as a completely objective individual, I'd have to admit that Jackson is the best nine-month-old swimmer in the world. Seriously, I'm totally impartial. The fact that he's the best at swimming has nothing to do with me being a proud mama.

Two days in to our little vacation, and Jax and I have spent a whole lot of time in the water. Currently it's the sprawling infinite pool in the back of the house. We have a mighty fine very of the big blue below us. This afternoon we'll probably make our way down there.

Jackson sure loves the water and the sun and his doting grandparents. He absolutely hates the massive amounts of sunscreen I slather him in every twenty minutes. He's still a bit too young to get that if he wants to do one thing, he's got to do the other.

I hold Jax under his armpits and spin him in a quick circle, causing the water to fly out around us. His giggles are music to my ears.

"Phillip Dryer!" Mary Jane's wail is certainly not nearly as pleasing. "What the hell are you doing on your phone?"

I stop playing with my baby to watch the exchange. Phil is younger than my mom, and I think she goes out of her way to avoid sounding like a naggy mother. Which is funny, given that she was never like that with me ever. But still, it makes her tone unusual so I pay attention.

M.J. is turned around in her lounge chair where she's reading a book on Malcolm X and enjoying a fruity drink way too early in the morning. She's scowling at her husband who is loitering just inside the house. He holds up a finger, indicating that he'll be just a minute.

And then he looks at me for a drawn out moment. If I had to describe that look I'd say it was guilt.

But then the moment passes and he disappears deeper into the house.

What in the fuck?

"Does he spend a lot of time on the phone?" I ask, trying to sound casual. Jackson makes a grab for my sunglasses but I dodge him artfully.

"No," M.J. says petulantly. "Not at all. Something's going on today, but I'm not sure what. Not that I really care. It's probably just shop talk. Who is beating who and why it's scandalous."

My apathy for sports is definitely something I got from my mom.

I don't ask any more questions Instead I just enjoy the sun.

* * *

M.J. cries all over me when we say our goodbyes at the airport. It did go quick, but when she starts blubbering about how five days isn't nearly enough time I can't really agree.

It's making me twitchy, how much I miss Jasper.

And it's only been five days. I'm pathetic. But to be honest I don't really mind being as I'm in love and all that.

Hours later he picks us up at the airport. It's late and he has to work tomorrow, but he insisted on being here to pick us up. Our family's little reunion is probably a nauseating in it's sweet, gooiness, but I don't really mind this either.

I can tell by how tight he hugs me that he missed me too. Just as much as I missed him.

He holds Jackson and kisses my hair and talks about how much he loves us.

Maybe I don't mind going away if it's like this when I get back.

* * *

"Alice, are you up for a conversation?"

His words are quiet and spoken into the dark. I'm all naked and curled into him, my head on his chest. His knuckles trace the length of my spine.

This is not a moment for conversing. This is a moment for sleeping.

"You want to talk?" I ask, still not really getting it. My brain is all foggy.

"Not if you're too tired. You had a big travel day," he murmurs. And he's right. I'm pretty damn tired, but something in his tone alters me. Jazz doesn't usually sound so serious.

'What is it?" I demand, sitting up abruptly. "What happened? Is everything okay?"

He shakes his head at me, obviously amused by my little outburst.

"Ali," he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and trying to get me to relax. "Everything is fine. Really good."

"I live for five days and things somehow get really good?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I got shit done," he says with a shrug. My eyes narrow at his familiar words.

"You keep saying that. What does that even mean?"

"Well… this is the part you might be kinda irritated about. I know how you don't like me makin' plans without tellin' you first."

"Jasper," I say with a hiss. "What the fuck?"

"I had an interview," he confesses.

I just blink at him. There are really not a lot of options for employment here in Dillon, and I really can't see Jazz selling real estate or Walmart or something like that as a step up in the job department.

Where the fuck is this coming from? I thought he loved his job, loved being connected to football and the Panthers. Have I been so wrapped up in my own discontent in the career field that I didn't notice his?

"Alice, I can see you over thinking this," he says, stopping me before I can really get going in my head. "Don't. Just listen. Do you remember that guy we met at a game, 'bout a month ago? The sports agent who was here with my former teammate?"

It takes me a minute but eventually I remember and nod.

"Well, I called him."

"You called him?"

"Yup. A combination of nepotism and convincing my good old friend Rob Banner to go with Arrow got me the interview." I just blink some more. He looks both nervous and determined at the same time.

"Nepotism?"

"Yeah, Phil is a long time client with Arrow. I did a little name-dropping, but you gotta do what you gotta do, right?" he says.

It's taking me a long time to process this. Phil on the damn phone.

"And Rob?"

"Well, he was havin' some doubts, thinkin' about goin' with one of the bigger agencies. We just had a long talk about priorities and shit. It was good," he says.

"Fuck, you've been busy," I mutter. "You waited till I was out of town to do all this so I wouldn't freak out."

It's not a question nor is it an accusation, just a true statement. Jasper winces and has the decency to look guilt even though I'm not mad or anything.

"Yeah, well… You didn't exactly react well the last time I brought up leaving Dillon. But you were right about a lot of things, like work. Having a plan. Figured the next time I brought it up I needed a little back up. I gotta work. And I know there's no way that your mom would let you pay a cent for school, but I still gotta work. This job that I interviewed for it's pretty much perfect."

I do a lot of blinking at him because all this is so shocking, even if it probably shouldn't be. Remembering Jasper's excitement a few weeks ago when he was talking to that agent takes on a whole new meaning now.

It would be perfect for him. The job. All taking sports and connecting with people.

"How did it go?" I ask.

"Say what now?"

"The interview. How did it go?" I clarify.

He smiles that breath taking, Jasper smile. "Good. Real good. It would just be an entry position, but it's something. I'll find out at the end of the week. And most importantly, it would get us the kinda life we want."

"And what kind of life is that?"

He gives me a soft kiss.

"You a fancy artist, me talkin' football all day. Both pushing ourselves to be better at something we really love." I smile and snuggle into his side, still terrified of this hope, but letting myself feel it anyway. "You and me and our son. Happy and healthy and whole."

* * *

**Aren't they sweet?**


	23. Here, Here, NYC

**This is the last real chapter and I made it nice and long for you because you've been so damn great about this little tale. I really like these two and will miss them. **

**Please forgive me for the excessive typos. Usually I read over the chapter before I submit it, but I don't have the time or energy right now. For those of you reading _Under These Lights, _you might have heard that my life has gotten complicated as of late. The Waldo Canyon forest fire burned down 347 houses in my neighborhood, and although my family home is merely smoke damaged, I know many that have been less fortunate and have been spending all my free time helping out. I'm still not sure when I'll find the inspiration to finish that story, but it'll be any day now. I cranked this whole thing out today so that's a good sign.**

**Anyway. Thank you so much for sticking with me and for making my first Jasper and Alice experience so pleasant. **

**I don't own nothin'.**

* * *

Jasper and I practice getting from my mom's apartment that is now our home to the downtown skyscraper where he works three times before his first day as an intern for Arrow Sports. In Dillon he could just wheel everywhere or drive, but here in the city things are a bit more complicated so we follow the route three time at the exact time of day he'll be travelling just to know what to expect. Once seems more than enough to me, but I'm not the one in the chair so I keep quiet and happily accompany him.

I love this city. I want him to love this city. And the best way to do that is wandering. It's not exactly wandering weather and Jasper is ill equipped to handle the cold and the grey, but he follows me around anyway after we do his route to work. I think he's still a little in awe that he's a city boy now, that all his crazy-ass plans for our future seem to be working out.

I sure as fuck am in awe that my life is here now. That my boys are here with me now.

Mary Jane watches Jackson while we explore the city. She's in town for the holidays but won't be around much once I get back to school and Jazz starts his new job after the New Year. That took some finagling too, but my schedule worked out so I'm only in class Tuesday and Thursday nights. Definitely not ideal, but that way we don't have to put Jackson in daycare. We'll see how it works this semester. There's a pretty good daycare at Arrow, but M.J. never put me in the care of strangers so the thought werids me out.

But I digress.

Still, I'm the one that's a nervous wreck when Jasper's first day on the job arrives a week before I'm due back at Pratt for the spring semester. He's calm, cool, and looking fucking hot while I'm a total mess. I watch him eat the breakfast I prepared but am unable to eat myself.

"Do you want me to wake up Jackson?" I ask as he finishes off his coffee. "Say goodbye to the baby for good luck?"

"Oh come on, Ali," he says, giving me that oh so charming grin. "I don't need no luck. This job was made for me."

There's no arguing with that one. His internship is half sports facts, have schmoozing. Nepotism may be partially responsible for him getting his foot in the door, but Jasper's going to shine because of who he is.

It's another one of those things I just know, way down deep to my bones.

"Yeah, okay. Great. Do you want me to pack you a lunch?" I'm on my feet as bustling on back into the kitchen before I even finish the question.

"Alice," Jasper says, his tone stopping me. I slowly turn towards him, hoping that I'm doing a good job hiding my totally ridiculous nerves. I don't want him to think my stress is indicative of my doubt. I have faith he'll succeed at his job. "Come 'ere."

Damn, I've been caught. Feeling like a complete moron I shuffle toward him. He grabs my hand and pulls me into his lap, arms tightening around my waist as he gives my neck a good nuzzle. For the first time this morning I smile a real life smile.

"I know why you're nervous," he murmurs in m ear. "Do you even know why you're nervous?"

I shake my head. I don't have the slightest idea why I woke up this morning feeling like someone way over weight was sitting on my chest.

"Well, I believe it's because you feel responsible for my happiness and success here in NYC. You feel like it's your fault I left Dillon and the Panthers and your terrified that if I'm not happy here I'll blame you."

Sometimes I hate it how he does shit like this. How he seems to know me better than I know myself. As usual, he's hit my nail on the goddamn head.

But he's right. I so want him to be okay here. I want him to be okay leaving Dillon, probably (maybe) for the foreseeable future. The town became Jasper's comfort zone after the accident. When he lost everything Dillon was his last little bubble of safety.

He's different now. Between Mexico and the baby and me, somehow he's found that peace and confidence he's been without for a while. And this job is a new dream for him. I have to keep reminding myself that this move was for him too. He's got something to prove here, and it's not all about me.

"That's not how this is, Alice," he assures me, lips against my temple. "I'm here because I want to be and because this is the best place for my whole family. If this job doesn't work out I'll take what I learned from it and find a new job. The whole time I'm gonna love you just as much as always. And that's an awful lot, I tell you what."

I nod and sniffle a little, feeling slightly less pathetic and a whole lot better. I give myself a moment to just be in the arms of the man I love.

"Do you want me to make you lunch?" I ask again, sitting up to look at him.

"No thanks, baby," he says, smiling softly at me. "The boss man has plans to take me out on my first day. "

"I love you," I tell him.

"Love you too," he replies. "Always."

* * *

"So will you totally hate me if I don't come home tonight?" I ask in a rush before Jazz even has the chance to say hello. I feel so guilty about spending the night in the studio, but midterms are upon me and I didn't get nearly enough done today, even with Jasper taking Jax to daycare with him this morning.

"There ain't nothin' you could do to make me totally hate you," he replies. Even with him saying the right things I know he's not happy about it. That's fitting being as I'm really, really unhappy about it. Leaving Jax for my first day of school was just about unbearable and being away from my kid hasn't gotten any easier. The thought of spending the night away from Jazz is almost as painful, but I don't really have much of a choice here. I'm not the only one struggling. My whole class seems to be camped out here this evening.

"Well, I totally hate not coming home. It blows," I whine, watching James and Irina smoke by a bench at the far end of the building.

I miss smoking. If I manage to get through midterms without a single cigarette it'll be a miracle.

"I obviously feel the same," Jasper replies. "But you do your thing. Jax and I will have a guys night."

I smile, knowing full well that he's just trying to make me feel better.

"I have to turn my stuff in by noon so I'll pick Jax up from Arrow right after. Do you think you could manage a late lunch with me?" I ask.

"For you, my sleepy little Alice? Anythin'. But I won't be offended if you decide to go home and crash instead," Jasper replies.

"You know how I get after this kind of thing. I'll still be to wired too sleep."

"Okay," he agrees. "I'll talk to you in the morning. I love you, babe. Jax says the same."

Again, I smile. "I love you both, too. So, so much."

After hanging up with Jazz I walk over to where James and Irina and a few others I don't know are taking a smoke break. I'm a year behind my friends now, except for one painting class that Moore cleared me for without the pre-rec. Still, I'm planning on taking summer classes so I'll end up graduating only a semester after the people I started college with. Not too shabby, if I don't say so myself.

"Hey, Tink," James says, nodding at me as I stand next to him. Irina takes a step closer, warping an arm around his waist. I have to fight my grin. This is something I missed while away, and Irina takes every available opportunity to mark her territory while I'm around. Ridiculous behavior, given all she knows about my baby and my boyfriend. James recognizes what she's doing, rolls his eyes, but puts an arm around her anyway. "Cigarette?" he offers.

"Don't tempt me, you asshole," I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest and watching him smoke with longing. "Jazz would kill me if I stumbled home tomorrow tasting like smoke."

"So you got permission from the old ball and chain to spend the night with the grown ups?" James asks.

"I have a kid and am in an extremely committed relationship," I point out. "Who's more grown up here?"

"Wait, you have a kid?" I turn towards the obnoxious and unfamiliar voice. I don't like that tone. The girl standing next to me must be relatively new and younger than me. Her stupid choppy hair cut is about a thousand colors. I know the type. She's trying way too hard to look like an artist.

"Yup, a fifteen month old little boy," I reply. "He's home with his daddy tonight."

"So, are you like old or something?" she asks.

Irina lets out a little snort. She has no patience for stupidity and this girl sounds like a goddamn cheerleader trying to pass herself off as an art student.

"Alice looks like a twelve year old," James says. "And she isn't actually that much older."

"Fuck you," I say. "I'm a month older than you."

"So why did you have it than?" little miss cheerleader pushes. "You know, why didn't you, like, get it taken care of or whatever. In this modern day there's no reason for girls to be having babies unless they want too."

What the fuck is this girl's problem? I look at James, trying to see his opinion on whether or not it would be justified to pop her one in her pierced nose. He just shrugs as I remember that I'm a mother now and therefore must act like it.

"I wanted him," I reply, glowering at her so intensely that she actually takes a step back.

"I just don't know how you could be a real artist and raise a baby at the same time, is all," she murmurs.

"You sound like a fucking idiot, Becca," Irina snaps. "Fuck off."

"It's Bex," she hisses before storming away.

"That girl's a fucking idiot, Ali," James assures me. "And it's clear to everyone who knew your work before that the whole baby thing has made you a way fucking better artist. You've got depth that no one in the program can touch. Even Moore agrees and he was scared you'd get all mushy and sentimental."

I'm touched by my friends words given how vocally opposed he was by all my life changes last few years. That was more about me moving to Dillon than Jackson, but still, it's nice to hear that I've still got it. That my year off didn't set me back art-wise.

"You know, I still haven't met this little bundle of inspiration," Irina says, sounding cranky. "James and Millie both have a couple times. It's not fair."

"You want to meet Jax?" I ask, totally shocked. My friendship with Irina has always been marked by antagonism.

"Of course," she replies as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Babies love me and I love babies."

James and I both stare at her in opened mouthed shock.

"What?" she snaps, crossing her arms over her chest petulantly.

Her incredulous expression is the last straw, and James and I both lose it, doubling over in hysterics. She stalks off towards the studio. It takes James and I another few moments to collect our selves.

If I have to spend the night away from my family, there's no place I'd rather be.

* * *

"You live in decadence," Eric comments as he lounges in a chair with Jackson in his lap. "It's totally unfair."

"I know, right," I reply from my seat next to him as I tilt my face towards the sun. Late March isn't exactly ideal weather for spending a day in the water, but the rooftop pool on my mom's building is heated. This spring is already unseasonably warm, and this first weekend of our spring break seemed like a grand time to share the perks of having loaded relatives with our friends.

Plus, Irina wouldn't stop badgering me about meeting Jackson.

"Jazz really wanted to be all prideful and insist on us getting our own shitty little apartment somewhere, but no one's ever in the penthouse and we really can't afford rent while I'm in school," I explain.

"And then there's the pool and the location and the luxury," Eric points out.

I give him a grin. "That too."

"Lucky bitch," he mutters.

"Damn right," I reply with a laugh. We clinch our glasses of fruity drinks together.

Jacksons babbles in Eric's lap before sticking a grape in Eric's mouth. Eric is totally entranced with my son. It's hard not to be. The kid is a total charmer.

Wonder where he gets it? Definitely not me, that's for fucking sure.

"I want one," Eric says, turning towards Laurent who looks so absolutely horrified I choke a little on my drink as I laugh.

"Unlike Mary Alice here," Laurent says when he collects himself. "We are poor college kids who live in squalor. Let's table the baby discussion until that changes."

"It's never going to change, Laurent," Eric says with a sigh, bouncing Jax in his lap. "We're artists."

All of my art school friends stationed at various locations around the pool raise their glasses and say "here, here." I laugh and shake my head. This casual gathering somehow managed to turn into a little pool party. Jazz even invited a couple guys from work so it's an odd group but everyone seems to be having a pretty decent time.

Food, alcohol, a pool, and good people. What's not to like?

"It's my turn," Irina whines as she wraps a towel around her body. She shakes out her long blond hair, misting us all, which is obviously totally gross.

"You're turn to what?" I ask, looking behind her where Jasper and James are racing down the length of the pool for about the millionth time this afternoon. James just cannot accept defeat but Jasper does laps four times a week and has the upper body strength of an orangutan.

"To hold the baby," Irina says.

"He's not exactly a baby," I murmur.

"Absolutely not!" Eric demands. The two begin to quibble.

"Hey, I really don't want to hand my kid over to you crazy people," I yell, succeeding in getting them to calm down.

"But Eric's held him forever," Irina whines. "It's not fair."

Eric has held Jackson for the twelve minutes or so since Jax got bored swimming with his daddy and needed a snack break. This doesn't seem like the wisest thing to point out.

"Dry off first," I tell Irina. "His shirt is dry and I don't want you to get him all damp."

She lets out a huff right before I get a face full of water. I sputter for a moment as I wipe my eyes, totally confused, but then I see Jasper grinning at me from the edge of the pool.

"Come 'ehe," Jasper says, waggling a finger at me.

"Absolutely not, you ape," I say, burying my face in a towel. "You're mean."

"Am not," he insists, continuing to grin. "I'm lonely and shirtless."

My friends laugh at how quickly I get up and jump into the pool after that one but I don't pay them much attention. The pool has cleared out and most people are in the lounge chairs or sitting around the tables, eating. I revel in the prospect of having a moment alone with my man.

I tease him first, attempting to flee towards the deep end, but he snags my ankle and pulls me back towards his body. He holds me firmly to his chest with one arm and keeps us above the water holding the wall with the other.

"I do apologize for my unforgivable behavior," he murmurs, nipping at my earlobe and making me shiver in this warm water.

"You aren't forgiven."

"I'm sure I'll figure out a way to make it up to you, little lady." I roll my eyes because he knows I hate that. "Let's start with a ride."

He pulls me onto his back and moves us to the shallow end farthest away from all our guests. My feet find the bottom of the pool and I pull Jasper back against me. He floats with his head against my neck while I run my hands up and down his torso.

"My little tadpole," I coo in his ear, sounding totally ridiculous.

Jasper gives me the stink eye for a moment before laughing. "Tadpole?" Really?"

"Well, you do like the water an awful lot."

"And if I were you I really wouldn't be callin' anyone little, miss five foot even," he says, extending his arms out across the surface of the water to help keep us balanced.

"I'm taller than you," I remind him.

"I'm not having this argument again," he replies with a sigh. I can't help but smile, thinking about this silly thing we fake fight about often. Technically when I'm standing up I'm taller than him because of the chair but in reality he's got over a foot in length on me.

"Jackson sure is a hit," I say, watching our son capture the hearts of both Irina and Eric at the same time.

"Kid already loves the attention, the little flirt," Jazz replies.

"Just like his daddy."

"Well you got me there."

"I'm glad we did this. James accused me of being anti-social," I say. James and Laurent bond over being freaked out by their significant others baby obsession.

"This'll show him," Jasper says, shaking his head. I wouldn't say he's become friendly with James but they get along in a strange, competitive sort of way. "That bastard."

"Are you glad I badgered you into inviting your work friends?"

"Mostly," Jazz agrees, pushing his nose into my cheek. "Although I wanted to punch Jason when I introduced you. He could of at least pretended not to check out your goods."

I let out a snort at that. "What goods?" I ask. "I have the body of a twelve year old boy."

Now Jasper is the one laughing. He paddles us over to the steps and pulls me around to face him, touching all of my meager curves as he does so. His hands come to rest on my ass under the water, and I totally forget what we were even talking about.

"As the authority on your body, Mary Alice," his whispers, voice husky, "I'm gonna have to disagree. There ain't nothin' boyish about you, that's for damn sure."

"Well, if you're happy than I happy," I reply, stuttering only a little bit. My hands find their way around his shoulders, but I don't remember my brain telling them to do that.

"Couldn't be happier," he assures me, giving me a good squeeze. His lusty look abruptly turns into a frown. "Well, unless I could figure out a way to blind Jason without resorting to violence. He's looking again."

"In that case let's give him something good to look at." I press my lips to his, starting slow and teasing because I'm planning on escalating this quickly. Unfortunately my hopes are dashed before I get the chance.

"Mary Alice!" shrieks Eric. "Help!"

That's pretty alarming, but when I look around Jackson looks totally unharmed and actually quite pleased with himself.

"What?" I yell back, obviously annoyed.

"He pooped," Irina says, pointing an accusatory finger at my son.

I let out a sigh and pout a little at Jazz. He smiles softly and kisses the corner of my mouth before I begrudgingly climb out of the pool.

"That's parenthood, baby," says Jasper.

Indeed it is.

* * *

"What the fuck are you two doing here?" I ask as Irina and Eric step into my apartment. Jackson is on my hip, still teary eyes from whacking his head against a coffee table. My kid plays hard and it gives me an average of sixteen heart attacks a day.

"Babysitting," Irina says, dropping her bag off on the couch before walking to the kitchen and helping herself to the contents of the fridge.

"You don't look ready at all," Eric observes, oh so helpfully. Like I don't know that already. My make up is half done. I'm only in my underwear. I can't find the shoes I need anywhere. Jasper and I are supposed to leave in fifteen minutes.

"Why are you both here?" I demand.

"Well, you said we had to choose who got to watch Jax for the night and we couldn't so here we both are," Eric explains, reaching for my kid. Jackson clings to me for a second before he realizes that his head is fine, and Eric will give him a whole lot more attention than I will in this moment.

"The pay's still the same," I say as I had Jax off. "I'm only sitting for one of you."

"How about you sit once for both of us," he suggests.

"Fine, you know. What the fuck ever. But I'm only paying for one take out meal."

"Go get dressed, Alice," Eric coos, tickling Jackson. "I've got this."

I nod because I'm late and frazzled.

Jasper's boss is getting married in the Hamptons this afternoon. This will be the first time I'm schmoozing with so many people from Arrow. I've met the young guys that have no more power than Jazz, but now I'm meeting agents, bosses, owners. The whole shebang.

I really don't want to embarrass him. I'm so fucking weird I just might embarrass him and that would feel like the end of the world because he's become quite the little star in the six month since he started. He's already been promoted from intern to the assistant of someone important's assistant's assistant. It's kinda a big deal and he loves it so much.

The fact that he was even invited to this wedding is apparently a really fucking big deal. All of Jasper's lowly friends are salivating with jealousy. The invitation is a sign that Jasper has been taken under the wing of the head honchos.

He's going places, and I want to prove to him (and myself) that I can fit into this new world of his much better than I could fit into the last one.

"Yorkie!" Jasper says as he enters the living room. "Eyes!"

Eric and I both stare at Jazz, having no earthly idea what he's talking about.

"Hello," replies Eric with an eye roll, apparently figuring it out before me. "Gay!"

Ah, right. I'm in my underwear.

"Irrelevant," Jasper says dismissively.

Eric laughs and follows Irina into the kitchen.

"Babe, are you packed?" he asks, eyeing me with concern.

"Mostly," I mutter.

"Get dressed," Jasper says, dropping off his overnight bag and the garment bag that contains both our outfits for the night by the elevator. I'll be wearing a dark grey sleeveless dress with lace overlay. In a fit of total panic about hiding my freakiness I brought some heinously expensive, bright pink monstrosity that Jasper told me to return the moment I showed it to him. Damn, I love this man. "Your mom's gonna be here real soon. It might make for an uncomfortable ride to the coast with you wearin' only that."

Oh thank God M.J. will be around to guide me into this scary new sports world. Phil is a long time client at Arrow and therefore attending this giant ass, fancy as fuck affair. They flew into JFK not long ago and are picking us up before we all head out.

Seven minutes later I've managed to pull myself together. I'm dressed in black shorts and a grey button up, lecturing my friends on proper Jackson care. We're only going to be gone about a day, but this is the first time we've left him over night with someone other than my mom or Coach or Jasper's parents. I'm more nervous about this than I am about the sure to be wedding disaster.

Irina and Eric and Jasper assure me that all will be well with Jackson but it is still with great reluctance that I take the elevator down to meet my mother and her husband.

* * *

I'm doing a pretty good job at this schmoozing thing. I spend the first hour of the reception observing Renee interact with the supremely hot women attached to the supremely powerful men of professional sports before I try really interacting myself. They are all glamorous and it's obvious I'm different, but I'm finding my uniqueness is working to my advantage.

Although most of them appear to be trophy wives, they like my mom so they give me a chance. Several of them seem genuinely interested in my art. Pretty much all of them coo over pictures of Jax I show them on my cell phone.

The bride actually goes out of her way to find me, requesting that I turn one of their wedding portraits into a painting. I think I earn Jazz some serious brownie points by refusing her offers to pay me, making it perfectly clear that this will be part of their wedding present.

The better part no doubt, being that the wrapped gift is a pair of oven mitts (the least expensive thing on the registry).

The next hour I let Jasper introduce me to all of his co-workers and bosses and clients. I manage to fake my way through being charming. Instead of pretending to understand what the fuck they are talking about when they get all sporty, I own up to my ignorance, giving the menfolk something to tease Jasper about good-naturedly.

Apparently if Jasper were a real man he would have done a better job educating me, or that's the joke anyway. I don't find this particularly amusing, but boys will be boys and the whole thing certainly indicates that Jasper has bonded with the sports guys.

By some miracle I do a damn good job being a toned down, less cranky, friendlier version of myself.

I dance with Phil for a bit before finding myself next to Renee, surrounded by women she's known for years once again.

And it's really not nearly as bad as I was anticipating.

The ladies actually start to talk sports, something I was hoping I wouldn't have to deal with in this group, and I zone out in favor of watching Jazz on the other side of the dance floor. He's surrounded, totally in his element even with all the great athletes he's been introduced to in the last couple hours.

Even I recognize a few of the faces – although I admittedly know none of the names – so this party is a little more high profile than expected.

He talks, they laugh. It's fucking great.

I watch Jasper excuse himself and roll away from the party, pulling out his phone as he moves into a private corner. Grinning to myself as I figure out what he's doing, I too excuse myself and work my way towards him.

"Just put him on, Irina," he demands, sounding frustrated as I approach. "I know he doesn't make much sense yet, just put him on."

Jasper glances up at me as I touch his shoulder and then uses my hand to pull me into his lap. He positions the phone so I can hear too.

"Lo?" Jackson asks. In my head I can picture vividly just how he looks holding Irina's phone. My kid loves phones, but always holds the bottom part too far away from his mouth.

"Hi, buddy," Jazz says, relaxing slightly. I was so busy flipping out about not being a weirdo and leaving my baby overnight with non-family members that I only mostly trust, I forgot to worry about Jasper's feelings.

Damn, asshole move. I'll be better next time. That's kinda the whole point of this relationship thing. Being better next time.

"Da Da Da," Jax chortles happily. My heartaches a little as I wish I was holding him. He babbles some more nonsense that loosely translates to something about Cheerios.

"Hi, Jackson," I say into the phone when he pauses to take a breath. "It's Mommy."

"Momma! Mumo!" He giggles to himself and says a lot of stuff I don't quite catch. I'm pretty good at understanding him even though he hasn't quite caught on to the English language yet, but it's damn difficult on the phone.

The three of us have a little conversation that would make no sense to normal people before I remind Jazz that it's way past our boy's bedtime.

"Goodnight, buddy," Jasper says. I can tell it's hard for him too, not being there at bedtime. "We love you."

"We love you so much, Jackson," I put in. "We'll see you tomorrow. Be horrible for Irina and Eric, will you."

Jazz elbows me in the side for that one and we hang up.

"Fuck, I hate this," he grumbles, shuffling me around on his lap as he tried to get his phone back in his pocket. "We're missing bedtime."

"I know, baby," I say, totally understanding this. I miss my kid and it's making me feel sort of pathetic. "But on the bright side it's obvious that this separation is hurting us a lot more than it's hurting him. It's ridiculous how much I miss him while he's just fine and dandy, having the time of his life with his doting babysitters."

"The little traitor," Jasper says, obviously teasing me. "So does being here make you want something?"

"What?" I ask, having not a clue what he's talking about.

"Does it make you want to have a big ol' wedding?" he asks. I can tell by his grin that he's bating me, but I can't stop my negative reaction.

"No," I shout, aghast. "Fuck no. Never."

"Never?" he clarifies, looking hurt. I rush to correct my mistake.

"You asked me about wanting a big old wedding," I remind him, tilting his face towards mine with my fingers on his chin. "And the answer to that is and always will be fuck no. Now, being married to you, that's a whole different ballgame."

Jasper smiles and I'm quite pleased with my sports metaphor.

"So you want to be married to me?" he asks. Jasper always comes off as so assured and so confident, sometimes I forget about his fragile, mushy bits underneath that he's entrusted just to me. Right now he looks more like a nervous little boy than the rising star at an agency that caters to the worlds most accomplished athletes.

"Duh." The moment the word leaves my mouth I realize that I've had slightly more champagne than I originally thought. "I'm mean yes. I want to be married to you. Someday."

The concept of marrying young no longer makes me feel violently ill, but I'm still not ready. I want to be settled and secure in our life here before we take that last big step.

I at least need to get my degree.

But I know, deep down in my bones, that I want him forever. He's changed me irrevocably in all the best ways. We understand each other, want each other, need each other, and are head over heals in love. We work hard to be better for each other and make each other feel loved.

We made a perfect little life together and continue to help each other navigate this whole parenthood thing together.

So yes. I want him forever.

"Someday," he replies, smiling a brilliant smile that is so much more meaningful and beautiful than his usual cocky grin. "That's a whole lot different than the tune you used to sing. Did you change your views on the whole institution which you once called archaic, mundane, and inherently patriarchic?"

I don't totally remember spouting off that shit but it sure sounds like me.

"You changed my mind," I tell him, cuddling a little closer. This is my favorite place to be in the whole world, tucked into lap like this. "You changed everything."

"Back at you, Mary Alice," he murmurs. I never thought anyone would look at me like this, with so much tenderness and love. "You changed everything."

* * *

**Thank you and goodnight.**


	24. Epilogue: Marry, Marry

**Just some fluff. I hope you like it. This is the last epilogue for now.**

**For those of you still reading _Under These Lights, _I'm making slow but steady progress on the next chapter. Stick with me.**

**Thank you so much.**

* * *

"Hello?" I call out as I step through the front door of our apartment. The lock always sticks a little, and I almost fall through the entry way as I attempt to keep a hold of my work crap and wiggle it open at the same time. "Where my boys at?"

The silence in our home makes me pout. Tuesdays are my late days at the gallery and usually Jasper and Jax beat me home. And they bring take out.

No food. No boys.

I switch on the hallway light and toss my keys in the pretty little bowl I made that sits on a rickety hand carved table. We've been here for about two years, since I finished up school and got a job working at my favorite downtown art gallery. I ended up double majoring at Pratt, painting and management.

They really love me over there. I'm not exactly running the place. But maybe one day.

The money is decent, which is not something I would really care about if I didn't have this overwhelming desire to dote on my child. He's a demanding little thing, the way he needs to be fed everyday.

And I still paint. Maybe one day I'll put on my very own show in my very own gallery. Although that really does seem like a conflict of interest.

Moving through our cozy little two bedroom home, I dump off the stacks of portfolios on the kitchen table and lay my fitted grey blazer over the back of a chair. Sometimes when I get dressed in the morning I don't even recognize myself.

At some point over the years, when I wasn't really paying attention, I turned into a grown with grown up clothes and a grown up job and a grown up family. Now I'm all about the slim cut dresses and slacks that make my legs look much longer than they actually are.

Today it's a white tank with navy stripes tucked into a pencil skirt that goes all the way much my torso. I'm even wearing heels, mostly because I need the height to compete with people at work.

My short, messy hair and aversion to color remains the same. I love vibrant shades on my canvas, just not my person.

It's been a long day to a grab a beer and sit out on our little balcony as I wait.

"Mary Alice!" I'm half-way done with my drink when Jazz slams into the apartment. His tone makes me feel like I'm in trouble. Why the hell would I be in trouble?

"Hey," I say, walking back through the kitchen. "Hi, buddy!"

"Mommy!" My adorable little tow-headed five year old launches himself at my legs. I drop to my knees to greet him properly. "Look what I did!"

He shows me the finger paintings he did in preschool and I gush appropriately. I cover his face in kisses as he babbles happily about his day.

"Go wash up for dinner, Jackson," Jasper instructs when our son finally takes a breath.

"Okay, Daddy. Can we put this on the fridge? It's the bestest one."

"Sure, kid. Right after we eat."

Jackson lets out a giggle and takes off down the hall towards his bedroom.

"What's up?" I ask the moment Jax disappears. It's pretty obvious that Jasper is not in the best of moods.

He lets out a sigh and sets the take out on the table. Indian food. Smells damn good.

"I was talking to Ms. McKay. You know, the preschool person at Arrow," he begins. I bite back my snide comment because I fucking know the woman who watches over my son. "Well, apparently there's been some bullying."

"No fucking way. Come on, I'm not being one of those blind-to-their-child's-faults kinda parents. Have you met the kid? There's no way he's bullying anyone," I reply. If Jackson was more like me it would be a distinct possibility, but the kid is all Jasper, way too kind hearted to be a fucking bully.

"It's the other way around, my dear," he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh," I say, totally stunned.

"He was all silent and by himself when I went to get him today."

"Oh," I repeat, tearing up a little myself. Jackson is like his daddy and loves being around people.

"I know he seems totally fine now but he was angling on the way home to not go back to daycare ever again. It's bothering him, Alice. How could it not?" Jasper looks just about as pissed and confused as I feel. Jackson is such a friendly little guy he hasn't had many problems with the other kids. I have no fucking clue how to handle this unprecedented situation.

"Beating these bullying little bastards would be wrong, right?" I ask.

Jasper cracks a hint of a smile. "One bullying little bastard, actually. Don't you even wanna know why this kid is pickin' on him?"

"Does it even matter?"

"It's us, Alice. Jackson said that he didn't think that his momma and poppa were married and this little asshole stared callin' him names. He's got it in his head that we ain't a real family or some shit," Jasper says, speaking in hushed tones.

"Oh," I say because how the fuck am I supposed to respond to that. "Well, that's an easy fix at least."

"Pardon?"

"We'll just get married. Problem solved."

Jasper gapes at me, looking so much like a fish I find it funny even in this rather stressful moment.

"You're kidding," Jazz finally says after clearing his throat a whole bunch.

"I was wondering when this whole marriage thing would come up again. It's been a busy couple years but I thought you would've at least purposed to me once by now," I muse. Marriage is not something I spend much time thinking about, but now that I am I find it odd that Jasper has done nothing to make me his wife.

More gaping from Jasper and a whole lot of stuttering. I watch with growing concern as he tugs at his tie.

"You okay, baby?" I ask.

"You have to be the most frustrating woman on face of the planet. I fell in love with a lunatic. A complete lunatic. How the hell did that happen?" he bursts out.

"Well, the important thing to focus on there is how much you love me," I remind him.

He rolls away, grumbling to himself as he pulls out utensils. I have no idea what the fuck just happened or how I made him so irate, but he sure is cute when he's flustered.

Jackson emerges and we all sit down to family dinner. We spend a good amount of time talking to Jackson about how love makes a family, not titles. We use Bella and Edward as examples and he gets it right away. They are totally family. Even without the blood relation.

I kiss Jackson goodnight and leave my boys alone. Most nights Jax wants his stories from his daddy. I change into a tank top and some black boy shorts underwear before dragging a couple portfolios into bed with me. We're starting to plan a showing of local emerging artists. It falls to me to do the first round of cuts before showing my picks to my boss. It's slow going, but luckily something I can do from home easily enough.

It's hard to focus as I mull over my earlier conversation with Jasper. Maybe he's changed his mind on the whole husband and wife situation. We are definitely not broke so why fix it? Still, it would be nice to have a few more legal ties to match all the others that connect our lives.

Jazz was always Mr. Marriage. What the fuck happened?

He doesn't say anything when he rolls into our room twenty minutes later, and heads straight for the bathroom. Still he doesn't talk as he maneuvers his way into our bed and gets situated next to me.

"Is that human hair?"

Not really the first words I was expecting, but I'll take it.

"Yup," I say, moving the large black folder out of my lap and closer to him so he can get a good look at the photograph. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"More like highly unsanitary," he mutters. "But what do I know. You're the expert."

"Still, it's probably not going to make the cut. This artist is just being shocking for the sake of being shocking. This hair stuff doesn't really say anything," I murmur, more thinking out loud than really talking to Jazz.

"I'll have to take your word on it."

He settles back against the pillows and picks up some sports hero biography he's been reading and that's just about when I lose patience.

"So are we getting married our what?" I push all the portfolios I should be going through onto the bedside table before turning to face him. He shakes his head a lot and I resist the urge to smack him.

"We're not gettin' married because of some asshole punk kid," he says with a finality that annoys me.

"Why not?"

"Because that is the least romantic thing I've ever heard!" he shouts.

"Well, maybe if you brought this up sooner and not left it to my suggestion it would have been up to your weirdly high romance standards," I point out, being perfectly logical. Jazz doesn't agree and lets out a frustrated growl.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Believe me, babe, that wasn't the intent."

"What is your problem? Don't you want to be married at me?" We both seem a little surprised to hear the whine in my voice near the end there.

Jasper lets out a big sigh and rubs his eyes with his fists. "I'm not gettin' married for the wrong reasons and that brat bullyin' out kid sure as fuck falls under that category."

"There are other reasons. Such as the aforementioned kid."

"Maybe I used to think that was a good reason, but not anymore," he mumbles.

"Good God, man," I shout, losing it again. "What do you want from me? Do you not want to be my husband? Is that it? Are you secretly planning on leaving me at the first opportunity you get?"

He rolls his eyes. "I want you to want to be married to me as much as I want to be married to you."

His earnest statement makes my breath leave my lungs in a big old whoosh. Jasper isn't looking at me and I feel like just an asshole for not understanding what had him all upset. Beside the bully thing, it's my lackadaisical, whatever attitude regarding something he takes very seriously.

We sit in silence for a moment and I try to center myself. This is a very delicate situation. Taking one more big breath I scoot close to him. Slowly I rest my head on his shoulder and a hand on his bare, sculpted chest.

"You're the love of my life, Jasper," I murmur. Still he doesn't look at me, but his little smile motivates me to keep going. "I mean it and all the over used cliché things about love. Soul mate. Other half. My everything. Whatever. For me, getting married isn't going to change much because it's impossible for me to be any more committed to you and this family. Still, the thought of being your wife makes me way happier than I ever thought it would. Giddy. I want to claim you as mine in every imaginable way."

I'm not totally sure where all this is coming from, but it's the truth. All of it.

"Really?" he asks. I hate how unsure he sounds. He probably hasn't mentioned marriage in so long out of the fear that I'd shoot him down.

"Really, really."

Jasper kisses my forehead and reaches back to turn off the light. He keeps me tucked into his side the whole time, and I giggle as we go on a little trip.

"I love you," he says as we snuggle into sleepy-time positions.

"Does this mean we're getting married?" I ask hopefully.

"Stop badgerin' me, Alice. I've got to put together a right and proper proposal and your naggin' ain't gonna help a damn thing."

I fall asleep grinning.

* * *

Jasper and I get married in Dillon three months later. It seems fitting, being as this little Texas town I love to hate is the homeland of our love. Plus it would have been harder to keep the wedding small if we stayed in the city. Between his work people and my work people it would've gotten big quick. My opinions on marriage have changed a great deal in the years I've been with Jasper, but I still feel the same way about big weddings

Fuck that, I say.

Instead it's a family only affair, plus the old gang from high school and a couple good friends from the city. We're the godparents of Edward and Bella's two year old little girl, Nessie, so really that counts as family it you ask me. There's less of a justification for the presence of Peter and his longtime girlfriend, Charlotte, and my old friends from art school, but what the fuck ever. It's my special day and all that.

We get married in this tiny little church that just barely houses our thirty or so guests. Mostly they are various Whitlocks. Jazz has a big family.

Or, we have a big family. Weird.

Mrs. Whitlock, Bella, and Rosalie all get really pissy with me when they see my dress, but the vintage sheath is absolutely perfect. The satin fabric comes to a point at the base of my throat while lace forms the sleeves and the high collar. The pale grey color makes it that much more perfect to be, but really annoys the other ladies.

We have a child, for god sakes. White is gross.

The way Jasper's eyes light up as Coach walks me down the aisle confirms all this. Perfection.

Damn, the man sure can wear a tux.

The same minister that baptized Jazz almost twenty-six years ago performs the service. He leaves out that whole bit about serving my husband and keeps the God stuff to a minimum, as per my request. It's short and sweet and when it's over I throw myself into my husband's lap before kissing him with such passion we both go a little cross eyed.

I get so caught up Jasper has to end the kiss to keep me from embarrassing myself. I don't notice all the cheering until I rest my forehead against his to catch my breath.

"I absolutely adore you," I murmur as I catch my breath.

"Back at yah, Mrs. Whitlock."

* * *

"That was really fun. Can we get married every weekend?" My little family sits snuggled together on the bed in Jasper's old room at his parent's house. The Whitlock's left the reception early to put Jax to bed, but when we stumbled home a couple hours later the little guy was in our room, waiting up on us. There was a little parental scolding before we decided on a late night snack of ice cream. We eat right out of the container with Jasper in the middle.

I can't stop looking at him. He's a pretty and perfect and mine.

"It's kinda a one time deal, buddy," Jasper explains.

"But I liked it. Why can't we do it again?"

"If we got married every weekend it wouldn't be special, " I explain, being as careful as I can not to get chocolate all over my perfect dress. "Do you want to see some pictures?"

I distract Jackson with the digital camera I pull out off my purse. Jasper puts the empty ice cream container on the bedside table and we all look together. All the people I love look so happy in these pictures.

All smaller family units that make up the whole beam back at us in photo form. Esme and Coach. M.J. and Phil. Emmett and Rosalie with their two little boys. Edward and Bella, looking as happy as they did the day they tied the knot, only a few months after graduation. And now Jasper and me, finally officially official.

I think we're going to be pretty good at this husband and wife stuff.

"This one's good, Mommy," Jackson says, touching the screen and smearing it with chocolate fingerprints. I like them off, making Jax giggle.

"I like this one, too," I confess. It's a picture of Jackson dancing with little Nessie. She's new to this whole walking business and she doesn't do much more than stand there, mimicking the dancing couples around her. She is so precious with her bronze locks and big brown eyes. Jackson holds her up, a determined little look on his face. It's so cute.

"Can I marry Nessie next weekend?" Jackson asks.

I deteriorate into a fit of giggles. There would be something oddly poetic about Jasper's son getting together with the daughter of Edward and Bella. Imagining Edward's reaction combined with the bemused look on my husbands face just sends me right into hysterics.

"Why don't you hold off a couple years there, slugger," Jasper mutters, his ears turning faintly pink.

"Like two?" Jackson asks.

"Two is a good start," I reply, leaning over to kiss his chubby cheek.


	25. Epilogue: All My Children

**THIS IS THE SAME EPILOGUE I POSTED ON _UNDER THESE LIGHTS_. If you have read that, you don't need to read this.**

**So this is for Donna who is awesome and has been betaing my other story, By Way of Sorrow.**

**There is one more after after this for those of you who are interested. This might be a little unexpected. **

**I own nothing and I love you so much for reading!**

* * *

"Where are you going?"

The sleepy mumble makes me smile.

"Home," I reply, trying to get out of bed without further disturbing his slumber. I know from experience that if he falls back to sleep now I'll be able to sneak out easy as anything, but wake him anymore and the chances of me sleepin' in my own bed tonight drop down to about zero.

A sheet wraps around my ankle and I tumble off the bed, catching myself on my elbows. My lower half stays tangled up in bed while I keep my body still, trying to listen to see if I disturbed the snoozing boy in bed further.

"You okay?" he asks, voice nowhere near as sleepy as it was a moment ago.

"Aw, fuck," I mutter, kicking my ankle around until it's finally free. I slide the rest of the way out of bed and roll to lie on my back, collecting myself for a moment.

Although my eyes are closed, I hear him rustling around on the bed. He's peaking over the edge no doubt to check on me.

"You don't look like you're hurt too badly," he murmurs. "You are very pretty, all sprawled out on my carpet."

A slight smile tugs at my lips, but then I remember myself and I scowl again. I tug the cursed sheet from the bed and wrap it around my body, ignorin' his pout. He never likes me covered up, but the way he looks at my naked body just makes me feel that much more guilty.

"Have you seen my panties?" I ask primly.

Grinning down at me over the edge of the bed, he shakes his blond head at me and I just know he's lying.

"You've got to stop doing this," I scold.

"I really haven't seen them."

"A likely story, bucko."

"Seriously. I don't see them but when I find them I'll throw them in the wash and put them in your drawer."

This time, I don't even have to force myself to scowl at him. With as much dignity as I can manage, given that he's just screwed the coordination right out of me, I scramble to my feet and march over to the adjoining bathroom.

"Aw, come on, babe," he calls after me. "Don't be like that."

I whirl around, beyond frustrated and angry with this whole thing. At him, for wanting more, at me, for giving him way too much already.

"I don't have a drawer and don't call me babe," I yell. He sits up in bed, propped up on his elbows. Something about the position makes his already ridiculous arms and chest look that much more pleasing. "We're just sleeping together here, buddy. It's not a big deal. Stop trying to make it a big deal."

"God, you are such a brat."

And to that I can't do anything but gape in shock. With angry movements I collect my clothes from the floor and take up my march once more.

"Find my panties!" I demand as I slam the bathroom door behind me.

I wrap the sheet around me a little tighter and lean against the counter as I try to collect myself. This thing I'm doing here is just so beyond ridiculous but even after six months of screwing around with him I can't seem to find the self-control to stop. I thought I got enough of him in high school, but here I am, about to sneak back home in the middle of the night.

Seriously, what is wrong with me?

I pull my dress on over my head, not bothering with the bra. When I left my house earlier this evening, I looked so nice. It was supposed to be a girl's night out on the town, but I got bored of that scene real quick and found myself knocking on his door, as I do so often these days.

Now my makeup is sweated off leaving nothing but faint black smudges under my dark brown eyes. I frown at myself in the mirror and splash water on my face. It feels nice and makes me want to hop in the shower, His is so much fancier than mine and the water pressure is much better, but it's already so freakin' late and I have so freakin' much to do tomorrow.

There is absolutely nothing to be done about my messy, chin length hair so I reluctantly leave my little sanctuary.

He is sitting up by the headboard now, staring as if his gaze hasn't left the bathroom door since I went in there. His beautiful arms are crossed over his beautiful chest, and a slight frown mars that classically handsome face of his.

After everything that's happened, I can't really believe I'm back here again.

I consider storming out without so much as a "bye now," but this is a boy I've known my entire life and I can't stand to see him upset.

Against my better judgment, I move to sit back down on the bed next to him. Immediately he leans forward to rest his head against my shoulder. With a heavy sigh, I thread my fingers through his soft blond hair.

"This is it. No more. I mean it."

"Do you?" he murmurs, slightly amused now.

"Yes." I convince neither of us.

"You're so stubborn."

"I've told you a thousand times that it's just sex."

He sighs and wraps his arms around my waist. I can't help but hug him back, remembering when he was nothing but a skinny little blued eyed boy and damn, did I love him.

Always have, probably.

Damn it.

"And I've told you a thousand times how ridiculous that is. We've got history and ties. Nothing is going to be that simple with you and me. I don't want it that simple," he says.

Suddenly, I'm so tired.

"I have to go. I'm meeting people in…" I glance at the bedside clock, wincing when I see it's after three am. "In seven hours."

"Can I come?"

"Ha. No."

I try and pull away, but he holds firm.

"You're really going to sneak out of here in the middle of the night, aren't you?"

"Yes," I say, pouting slightly. It's so annoying, but I don't want to go anywhere.

"Fine."

He let's go and turns away. For one horrible moment I think he is just going to lie down and pretend I'm not here. He's not one to be cold, not like me, and it hurts my heart to see him turn away.

But then he pulls on a t-shirt and reaches for his jeans, bunched at the end of the bed.

"What are you doing?" I ask, confused. He always sleeps in the nude.

"I'm giving my lady a ride home," he says. "Do you really think I'm going to let your fine ass get on the light rail by yourself at three am? Come on."

"I'm not your lady," I mutter. This shouldn't be so surprising but it is.

He stands and digs around for his keys on his desk for a moment. I admire his lopping gait and the athletic lines of his body as he walks back over to me and pulls me to my feet.

Somewhere in my head he is still that scrawny little boy, and I'm always so surprised by his height. I'm tall, but damn. He's way tall. I'm not used to having to look up at anyone, but he's a freaking giant.

I like the way I fit right under his arm. He keeps me tucked into his side as we take the elevator down to the parking garage. I try not to swoon as he opens the passenger's door of his Subaru.

Who still does stuff like that? I mean, seriously.

The drive through the city to my neighborhood goes real quick. Sometimes it takes almost thirty minutes during the day with traffic, but we only see three other cars on the road. We don't speak, but I let him hold my hand as I look at the lights out the window.

When we get to my house, he actually parks. I try not to smile as he comes around the car to open the door for me once more. I let him hold my hand again as he walks me to the front door. No one remembered to leave the front light on for me, and the house is dark, it's other occupants all sleeping soundly.

I fumble with my keys but manage to get the lock undone. I pause before entering, hoping he's not going to try to talk his way inside.

"Thanks for the ride," I murmur, running a hand through my tangled copper hair.

He gives me a warm smile in return.

"Anything for my lady," he murmurs, pulling me into his chest for a hug.

"Jackson," I say with a groan, so tired of arguing with him about this. "Stop."

"Never ever," he murmurs, his hands moving up my sides to cradle my face. His stupid eyes make me feel dizzy as he brings his lips to mine. I let myself get lost for a moment, because despite everything else that is so wrong here, this one thing between us is perfection.

Absolute perfection.

"I am completely crazy about you, Ness," he says, lips hovering millimeters from mine. "And I'm just as stubborn. I'll wait you out."

I roll my eyes because he may be crazy about me now, but that wasn't always the case. The memory of how it made me feel then, is the reason for keeping him at a distance now.

Or tryin' too anyway.

"Goodnight, Jax."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says, reluctantly letting me go.

"No you won't," I insist, shaking my head as I open my front door. "This was the last time, remember?"

Jackson's answering grin makes me swoon for real this time.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

"You look like shit."

I lift my head from a thick anatomy textbook to glare at my study buddy. Sam and I dated freshmen year, but are now forced to spend far too much time together being as we have all the same friends and we are in all the same classes.

Plus, we decided to get a house together this year with a couple other bio students. He's actually a pretty decent roommate, but things can still get awkward on occasion.

"When did you get home last night?" asks Heidi, another roommate. She's on the pre med track too.

"I don't even know, Heidi," I say with a shrug, reaching for my coffee. "It wasn't that late."

"Wait," says Sam, eyes narrowed. "Did you guys all go out last night? Girls night, wasn't it?"

I pretend to be deeply engrossed in my book.

"Nessie is seeing some older baseball player from her past or something," Heidi explains. "She's being awfully mysterious about him."

"Oh, really?" asks Sam, rounding on me. "How long has this been going on?"

"Sumer time," Heidi answers. I give her a shocked look, thinking she only found out recently. "You are no where near as sneaky as you think you are," she replies.

I sigh and slump down in my chair, looking out at the crowded library. It seems like every DU student is here on this gloriously sunny Saturday.

"So, is it serious? And he's a baseball player? Like the Rockies?" Sam asks. I can see thinking about getting tickets next season.

Stupid Jackson. Picking my city of all cities to launch his glorious professional baseball career.

"Really?" pissed at Heidi for opening her big mouth. "What happened to 'oh, I won't say a word, Nessie?' What happened to that?"

Heidi shrugs. "It got boring. And I want to meet him. Why won't you let us meet him?"

"He's not my boyfriend," I insist. "There is no reason for you to meet him. We aren't dating. He's just a family friend so we hang sometimes. I've known him my whole life. We were practically raised together."

Heidi doesn't look convinced. Sam looks like he's trying to figure something out.

"Wait," says my ex. "Is this Alice and Jasper's kid?"

I wince, forgetting that I introduced them when we dated. Suddenly I remember a whole bunch of other stuff I told him during that year we were together.

"It is, isn't it?" he continues, sounding annoyed now. "So this is the guy you lost your virginity to, right? The one that took off during the night and broke your heart?"

"I told you that in confidence!" I snap, blushing slightly.

"Yeah, well that confidence ended when our relationship did, my friend. I thought you hated this guy," he says, frowning.

I throw a highlighter at him. It bounces off his forehead and he laughs.

"I've never hated him," I reply. "I was just pissed. Things got weird for awhile at family functions, but we've known each other for forever and I got over it."

"Is that what you were doing until four am last night?" asks Heidi, smirking. "Getting over it?"

I grumble and cross my arms over my chest. "Y'all are a couple of asses, I tell you what."

"I love how she gets more Texas sounding when she's pissed," Sam tells Heidi.

"It's so cute," Heidi agrees.

"Can we just study," I demand, bending back over my book. "Need I remind you we have finals next week. I will not fail because you guys can't stop talking about a guy I was once into."

There is a brief pause as they follow my advice.

"So, can he get us tickets for opening day or what?"

* * *

"No touching," I remind him as we work our way through the terminal, making our way to the family that awaits us.

"No touching," he agrees, giving my ass a good spank.

"Jackson!" I shriek.

"Sorry," he manages through his chuckles. "Last one while we're in Texas. I swear."

"Good," I say trying not to pout.

It's going to be a long two weeks.

Except I'm never doing that again: This dude broke my heart once and I have no intention of letting him do it again.

"So, if there is no touching, does this mean I shouldn't mention what we did in the shower this morning at family dinner?" he asks casually, as if he really doesn't know the answer.

I turn bright red.

"Do not even joke about that," I say, horrified. "He may be your godfather, but my dad will murder you, Jackson. And they like him so much in Dillon, the whole town probably will let him get away with it."

"So you're saying you don't want me to be murdered?" he asks.

I send him a withering glare.

"That's progress, as far as I'm concerned," he says, sounding sad.

"Whoa, we are so not talking about _that_." There is nothing I hate quite as much as Jackson trying to talk about what happened between us four years ago, what with us doing it and him skippin' town immediately afterwards.

"I don't think you believe me when I say it's the biggest regret of my life," he murmurs.

I close my eyes for a moment as we walk, so totally not wanting to get into this. "So you've said."

"You could let me explain," Jackson continues in that same sad tone. "It might make us both feel better about it."

"Really, I'm over it. It was a long time ago and I know you're sorry."

"Well, I'm not over it," he mutters.

I don't look at him or reply. Why he thinks it's a good idea to ambush me with this now is beyond me. We move towards the escalator that will take us to baggage claim and my family, but Jackson grabs my hand at the last moment, pulling me off to the side.

"Wha—"His lips are on mine before I can get the word out. His fingers twirl into my hair and I can't stop myself from responding with equal fervor. I wrap my arms around his lean waist to steady myself, completely losing myself in the kiss.

It scares me, all I feel for this boy that turned into a man when I wasn't paying attention.

I'm breathing heavily and my skin is so hot by the time he finally lets me go. I try to take a step back, to clear my head, but he holds me in place, hands still tangled in my hair.

"It haunts me, Vanessa," he says. "What I did to you. If you'd let me, I'd tell you I love you. These next two weeks not touching you might be the most difficult of my life, with the exception of those months and months after I left you."

I shake my head, trying not to cry. "You fucking idiot," I mutter. "We have to go meet my parents now. What are you thinking, tellin' me all that?"

With a heavy sigh he lets me go. He takes a step back and I hate that he's so far away.

"You're right," he murmurs, studying his feet. "I'm sorry, but we've been doing this for months, Ness. Just… you have to talk to me. For real."

I nod because I owe him that much. God, I'm so confused. I knew I would be, the moment my mom told me he signed with the Rockies.

"Okay," I say. "We'll talk. I promise you a talk, but can we please just get through this holiday without causing any huge family drama?"

"No drama. I promise."

"Good."

I kiss him quickly. His answering smile makes my heart go wonky.

* * *

"You cut your hair," my mom says for the thousandth time since we got in the car to head home twenty minutes ago.

"Mom," I say with a groan as she pulls on the chin length ends of my bronze locks. "You've seen pictures: And we Skype once a week. This shouldn't be so damn shockin'."

"Listen to the mouth on you!" Mom continues. "Edward, do you hear the mouth on your daughter."

"Yeah, that's fuckin' undignified," says Dad from the front seat. He meets my eye in the rearview mirror as I have a good giggle. My mom sighs heavily but is unable to totally prevent the small smile from gracing her lips.

"I just think it makes you look like such a grown up, is all," says Mom, tears in her eyes.

"Don't you start that," I say, shaking her slightly. "I just got here. No crying. You can cry when I leave. If you cry I'm just going to cry and I hate crying."

"Oh, Vanessa. I missed you." She pulls me into her side and I cuddle closer. It's a little awkward being as I'm like sixteen feet taller than her, but she's my mama and I love her.

"I missed you too."

"I can't believe you only have two weeks."

"I'll be back in no time for spring break, Ma."

She huffs, dissatisfied by my answer but lets me sit up in my seat. I stare at the back of Jackson's head, fighting a ridiculous urge to run my fingers through his hair.

"Thank you so much for getting Nessie's ticket," Mom says. "It is just so convenient with y'all flying in together. Did she pay you back?"

I groan again.

"Of course she did, Bella," he says. "Right away."

"You really are a grown up," muses my mom, turning back to me. I just roll my eyes.

Jackson gets quizzed by both of my parents for the rest of the ride to Dillon. Mom asks him how he likes Colorado and relives her youth as she tells him about her old stomping grounds in Denver. Dad asks a thousand questions about baseball, all of which have been asked before. Then he starts ranting about what a great football player Jax coulda been. This inevitably leads to an argument about which sport is truly America's pastime before they start talking about the Cowboys playoff chances.

I let the familiarity of it soothe me. I might love my life in Colorado, but there is nothing quite like coming back home.

"So, Jax," my mom starts. I can tell just by her tone I'm not going to like whatever it is she wants to ask. He turns in his seat to look at her. "Are you dating any of those Colorado women?"

My eyes go wide and I pale as Jackson smirks. "Not at the moment," he says, diplomatically.

"No ones caught your eye?" my mom pushes.

Jackson glances at me. It seems somewhat involuntary, but I'll yell at him about being so damn obvious later.

"Aw, leave him alone, Bella," Dad says before Jax can answer. I relax slightly. Dad can always be counted on for a good subject change. "He's too polite to tell you he's enjoying the single life and the perks of bein' a professional athlete. Am I right, Jax?"

Although I manage to not let out an enraged huff, I cross my arms over my chest as I scowl at Jackson.

"Well," I snap. "Is he right, Jackson? You enjoying being a young, hot, professional athlete?"

My mom looks at me like I've lost my mind. I realize too late that I just called out the boy I've been boning hot in front of my parents, his godparents.

And Jackson has the nerve to fuckin' smirk at me.

"Something like that," he murmurs, turning around to face forward.

Mom is still looking at me as we pull off the highway onto the long, winding driveway that will lead us home. I drink up the familiar scenery and stop worrying about Jackson.

Mostly.

When I get out of the car I take a moment to just stare at the house my Daddy built. I was still pretty little when we moved from suburban Dillon out here where everything feels quiet and wonderful and just a little bit wild.

It's white with blue shutters, a huge wrap around neck, and a circular turret room that doesn't quite fit. That's my room. Dad built it because I wanted to feel like my room was in a castle.

I smile at the memory, feeling all warm and fuzzy.

A gust of chilly December wind makes me huddle in my jacket, but I close my eyes and listen to the chorus of tall blowing grass that stretches as far as the eye can see. The rolling hills looked like a sort of golden ocean to me when I was a kid. I used to just to sit on the porch and pretend I was floating.

"Anthony isn't driving down until Christmas Eve," Mom is telling Jackson as they ascend the front steps. "That damn bowl game is keeping him away for most of break."

"Go longhorns," says Dad, throwing an arm around my shoulder and walking me towards the house. "You bummed about missing the game?"

"Yeah," I say, feeling blue for a moment. "But I went to the last one and they really needed me to work."

"You work too much," he mutters.

"Med school won't pay for itself."

"We can help out."

"Oh, no. You've done plenty, thank you. I won't have any debt when I graduate from DU. That's pretty much a miracle," I remind him.

"Well, that's mostly thanks to your scholarships," he points out.

"Yeah, I am pretty awesome."

He rolls his eyes and holds the front door open for me.

"Where is everyone?" I ask, a little disturbed by the unnatural quiet.

"Masen's at football. He'll be home from practice pretty soon here. Coach will be with him. Rose and Em and the rest will be here in time for dinner," Mom says.

"I thought your grandpa retired from the whole coaching gig?" I ask, turning to Jackson.

"He did. I guess the QB coach quit and the boosters convinced Coach to come out of retirement for the season. Mom says he's loving it," Jackson replies. He dumps his duffle by the base of the stairs. I do the same.

I nod, thinking of my own dad. He stopped coaching when I was a sophomore in high school, but he is still crazy involved in the football program, despite his lowly status as music teacher only.

"I hate to do a big family dinner without your parents, Jackson," says Mom, frowning. "But we'll just do it again when they get here later in the week. That should be fine, right, Jax?"

"Right, Bella," he replies.

She gives him a side hug and drags me into it as well. "I'm just to happy that all my children are going to be under the same roof!" says Mom.

Jackson and I share an uncomfortable look because we are both included in this statement.

* * *

"Whose year is it to be team captains?" asks my dad as he tosses the football to me. We stand gathered in our backyard, preparing to take part in the traditional, post Church, pre dinner Christmas football throw down.

"Tommy and I are always team captain," I remind him. I shoot a grin at my cousin and fellow non-football player. He is Anthony's age and looks so much like his mom it's ridiculous. Really, he should consider going into modeling or something when he graduates college.

Every year the teams are pretty much the same. Anthony and Jackson are forbidden from being on the same team, given as they are both crazy good athletes. Dad and Uncle Emmett each go to different teams, as do Will and Masen. It keeps things pretty even.

Oh, and Coach is all time QB. One of these days he's gonna be too old to throw the football. I shudder to think what we'll do then. It'll be absolute chaos.

They all may be bigger and stronger than me, but they have to catch me first.

"That's a bullshit rule right here," Anthony shouts as he stretches. "Why do the two shittiest players get to pick?"

"Rude!" I chastise, fumbling a catch from Dad.

"You're just pissed because you lost last year," Masen reminds him.

"I've won the Rose Bowl," says Anthony, sounding like a total douchebag. Normally he's pretty good at keeping the whole football star thing from going to his head. This is not a shinning moment for my younger brother. "What do I care about some stupid, backyard two hand touch?"

We all have a good laugh at this. Anthony has been throwing fits about our Christmas football throw down since he could walk. It's some hysterical behavior that he's never showed once when playing in Austin.

"Alright," says Coach, sounding like his namesake. "Let's get this show on the road. Nessie, you pick first. Ladies choice."

I pick Anthony so Tommy get's Jackson. He picks Dad so I get Uncle Emmett. I pick Will so he gets Masen.

It's a damn good time.

We start off pretty serious and the younger guys stay way serious, but Uncle Emmett, Dad, Jax, and I get pretty goofy. Jasper and Rosalie cheer from the desk as each team only manages to score one touchdown in the first forty minutes of play.

At one point, Jackson can't quite get both hands on me for the down, so he just snags my wrist and pulls me off my feet, slinging me over his shoulder.

"Personal foul!" I yell through my giggles. "This is some holding right here!"

"Personal foul!" yells Anthony, actually pissed. "That's fifteen yards."

"Fifteen yards is half the field," says Coach. "Call it a down and let's keep playing. Dinner will be done soon."

With great reluctance, Jackson puts me down. I make no move to put space between our bodies as he smiles down at me. The look is so soft and tender I forget myself for a moment.

"You call that holding?" he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

I roll my eyes and shove him away.

Dad won't stop looking at me in a way that is slightly unsettling as we line up for the next play.

* * *

On Christmas I find myself next to Jackson, sitting in an oversized chair. I am too full and too drunk to move, so I don't really worry about the implications. No one in the family seems to really notice or care.

My brothers and our cousins sit at the kitchen, partaking in the loudest, most passionate game of Risk I've ever witnessed. Mom and Rose yelled at them about the yelling, but gave up hours ago in favor of letting them have their ridiculous, macho, aggressive fun.

Mom, Aunt Rose, and Esme sit on the floor at the coffee table, putting together a 1000 piece puzzle that seems to be 96% purple. Their focus baffles me. I am feeling so lazy it gets difficult to keep my eyes open.

Dad, Uncle Emmett, and Coach lounge on the couches behind them, taking up far too much space given that I'm folded into a corner of this far too small chair. They talk about football because they always talk about football.

Not that I mind. My roommates often complain that I too am guilty of always talking about the blessed sport.

Jasper's chair is parked right across from me, right by the roaring fire. Alice sits on his lap, sketching. He strokes her hair; it gets a little creepy for me because with each passing day his son looks a little more like him.

It's a scene so familiar I often closed my eyes and pictured it with perfect clarity when I was homesick my first few semesters away at school. A few faces are missing. Grandpa Charlie took his wife to Florida, but for the most part my whole family is here. These people have always been such a constant in my life. I hope there is never a year that we don't all make it to Dillon for Christmas.

I grin down into my hot whiskey, cradling the mug between my hands.

If it weren't for the infuriatingly appealing boy who is sitting so close I can feel the warmth of his body, I'd be totally and completely relaxed. Despite his sprawled out legs and the arm that rests just behind me on the back of the chair, he isn't touching me.

And that's good. He's following the rules. Plus, I should get used to him not touching me because one of these days I'm going to have to figure out how to stop fornicating with him, but I'm so warm and fuzzy and happy that it's hard to not want him to touch me.

"I overheard the lady folk whispering about us while they were preparing our Christmas feast," Jax murmurs, obviously wanting to keep this conversation private. Between the boys yelling, the jazzy Christmas music Dad put on in the background, and the pleasant crackle of the fire it seems as though everyone's attention is otherwise occupied.

"Ooh, was it gossip?" I ask, turning slightly towards him. One of my legs drops off the front of the chair while my other knee leans into his side. "I am so disconnected from what's what in this town. Was it about Masen? Last I heard he was dating Jacob Black's daughter, but he refuses to tell me anything about it."

"He's totally banging Kimmy Black," he whispers conspiratorially. "He told me this morning."

"Ew!" I cover my ears with my hands while scowling at him. "That's my baby brother we are talking about. That's disgusting. What is wrong with you? He's a child."

Jax snorts. "He's almost seventeen."

And now I'm thinking about what I was doing at seventeen which was Jackson, of course. Or that one time, at least.

"Please say our mothers were not discussing my baby brother's love life while preparing the meal to honor our Lord and Savior," I mutter, glancing around to make sure no one is listening. This is hardly a Christmas appropriate conversation.

"They were talking about us."

"_What_?"

"They were simply commenting that they are happy that we seem to be as close as we once were, like we were growing up," Jackson says, giving me a sad little smile.

We both go quiet, once more thinking about just what happened four years ago to make us lose this closeness. I loved him. He left. I refused to answer his calls and did a bad job faking normalcy when we had to see each other.

"Do they know?" I ask, hating him a little bit for putting a damper on my feel good mood.

"No," he murmurs. "They think I got distant when I went to college and they think we're friendly now that we're living in the same city."

"Well, they are at least a little bit right. It's that obvious, huh?"

"Is what obvious, baby?" I'm glad he's still whispering. My dad going on a murderous rampage would really put a damper in the whole holiday spirit.

My father has a reputation for being completely unreasonable when it comes to the opposite sex being in my general vicinity. Poor Sam met him only once while we were dating.

Worst. Dinner. Ever.

"That we're… closeish again?" I supply.

He grins like a lunatic and I curse myself for being so sloppy drunk as to admit such a thing.

"Guess so," he says with a shrug.

Resisting the urge to cuddle into his side is extremely difficult. I should probably put some space between us. Maybe walk around on the deck until I cool down.

I move to do just that when I get a scolding from Alice.

"Don't you dare move, little NC!" Her absurdly loud demand is enough to draw the attention of everyone, even distracting the boys from their quest for world domination.

"Uh…" I return to my former position, remaining seated. It seems damn important to Alice.

"Mom?" Jax asks, as amused as he is puzzled.

"It's perfect. You guys are ridiculous with your lankiness and your height. Seriously, this drawing is going to be all limbs," she replies, her charcoal pencil flying on the notebook open on Jasper's lap.

Dad is looking at me in that way again, but the rest of the family is used to Alice's insanity when it comes to sketching, and they go about their business.

It takes me longer than it should to realize that both my parents are staring. Dad has that little furrow between his eyebrows that is never a good sign. Mom just smiles like she has a secret.

I ignore them both.

* * *

"This is so lame," Anthony mutters as we watch Dad tee up an empty can. He takes way longer than is necessary and Anthony groans. He is decked out in a really weird outfit; plaid pants tucked into cowboys with a jean jacket and cat eye sunglasses.

"It is not," I say, letting my legs dangle from the bed of Dad's old truck where we sit and wait for our turn. "Drink your beer."

"You're a terrible influence. I'm only nineteen you know, and really I can't drink anymore beer until after the big game next week."

"You are totally ridiculous, you know that?"

"This body is a machine, Vanessie," he says, actually kissing his biceps.

I roll my eyes and shove him, but he barely seems to notice.

"I hate these things I'm so bad at this," Mom mutters under her breath as she marches up to our seat. "After nearly thirty years you'd think I'd show at least a little improvement."

We both move over so she can sit in the middle. Masen tees up next with an empty can of Coke.

"Thirty years?" Anthony says, gaping. "You've been coming here for thirty years? Ma, you are way old."

"It's twenty six, actually," Mom says, scowling at the middle child. "And is that a beer I see in your hand, Anthony Emmett?"

"No," he says, smirking as he brings the can to his mouth.

Mom sighs. She holds my hand and lays her head against Anthony's shoulder.

"I must be old," she whispers as Dad gives Masen a very serious golf lesson. The way the baby of the brood nods along and concentrates is pretty damn cute. It must be weird for him to be the only one left at home.

"Why, Ma?" Anthony asks.

"Because I have such old children," she says. "Look at you two: Away at college. One on track to be a doctor. The other one a football player. You know how that terrifies me, Anthony."

"Yes, Ma," he says with a sigh. He's been hearing the lecture on not tackling with his head down since peewee.

"You're not old," I say because I'm an awesome daughter. "You're like forty. It's kinda insane how much younger you are than most of my friends parents."

"I'm forty-four," she corrects.

Anthony whistles through his teeth. "Damn. That's ancient."

"Give me that," Mom says, snatching the beer from my brother. She hands it to me and I smirk at him while he scowls right back. "How did I give birth to such tall creatures?"

"Just lucky, I guess," I say. All the men in my family are taller than me, but all four of us tower over Mom. I'm thankful Dad gave me his genes on this one.

"Creatures?" asks Anthony.

"Who's next?" Dad asks as he and Masen mosey on over to us. "Masen has the record for the day."

Anthony and Masen high five, because as long as one of them is beating Dad it is a victory for both.

"Dad," I say, crossing my arms over my chest in defense to the wind. "It's freezing. You know I love it up here. I do, but it's December! This is getting absurd."

Dad opens his mouth to argue, but Mom saves the day my wrapping her arms around his waist. It never fails to gross me out, the way they're always touching, but at least this time she's using it for good.

"Nessie is right, Edward," she says. When Dad notices her shivers he holds her closer and rubs her back with his palms. "The sun is going down and the wind is picking up."

"Yeah, you wouldn't want to ruin our last night all together with one of us dying of frostbite," Masen says.

I roll my eyes at his dramatics but his statement genuinely upsets Mom who looks like she's about to start up the waterworks already.

"Don't do it," I warn.

"Aw, hell," says Anthony.

"Jeeze, Mom," Masen mutters, shaking his head in shame. "Get a grip."

"You could at least hold off till Anthony drives away tomorrow morning, Bella," Dad says, being a whole lot more gentle than the rest of us.

Mom's hysterics when one of her children leaves the nest have become somewhat legendary since she completely lost her shit when I moved to Colorado.

"I'm okay," she insists, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. "I'm okay. Let's go get picked up and then we'll go back for hot chocolate."

Dad smiles and kisses her temple.

"Can I have whiskey in mine?" asks Masen.

"No," Mom and Dad say in unison.

"Can I?" I ask as Masen pouts.

"Sure," says Dad.

Masen reaches out to flick my ear but I dodge him, running down the familiar steep embankment. It's a little treacherous, but I've been walking this path my entire life. Masen and Anthony are hot on my tails but they don't catch up until I slow to pick up cans.

They never do catch me. I'm the fastest.

* * *

"I forget how much your mom always cries at goodbyes," Jackson muses as we wait to board our flight back to Colorado and the real world.

"This one was a double whammy," I remind him. "Her daughter and her best friend leaving on the same day."

"Yup," Jax agrees, glancing at his watch. "It looks like my parent's flight took off about three minutes ago."

"So you are saying there is no chance of them happening upon us here?" I ask.

"What?" he asks, blinking at me. For a smart guy he can be pretty oblivious sometimes.

It was a very long two weeks.

I give him a pointed look until her gets it and when he finally does his whole face lights up, making him look like a little kid. Making him look like the little boy I've loved forever.

"Aw," he says, fingers moving through the hair at the back of my head. He pulls me a little closer. "You missed me touching you."

I snort. "Dream on. I just want to get our last time ever over with so I can finally put a stop to all this madness." My breath gets husky by the end of my rant because Jackson is narrowing in on my lips. My eyes flutter closed in anticipation, but then all at once he's gone.

I blink like an idiot, not understanding why he is now facing forward in his airport seat, scrolling through something on his phone.

"What in the world?" I mutter.

"You didn't miss me," he says with a shrug, "so we might as well just stop the madness now."

"But," I whine, stomping my foot a little. "I don't want too."

Jax turns the full wattage of his mega smile on me and I lose track of what we were talking about.

"And why is that, babe?"

"Because it was a long two weeks." My groan of frustration and annoyance is probably embarrassing, but he is just sittin' there looking so damn appealing and not touching me.

"And why was it a long week?" he asks, demanding I elaborate. His tone makes me figure out what he wants.

"Because I missed you, you son of a bitch," I admit through a clenched jaw. "And I don't appreciate you—"

The searing kiss he gives me should not come as such a shock but it takes me a second to realize what is happening and respond. I want to crawl over the metal armrest separating our bodies. He draws a breathy little moan from my chest and one of my hands comes to rest against the smooth column of his neck.

He kisses me and kisses me until some puke preteens yell at us to get a room.

I hide my blushing face in his shoulder. I feel the chuckle in his chest as he kisses my forehead and strokes my hair.

"I know I hurt you," he murmurs in my ear. My body tenses and it seems safest to keep my face hidden. "I'm going to do everything in my power to earn back your trust and I get why you are trying to hate me. I get that you're trying to protect yourself, but I'm not going anywhere, Vanessa."

I manage a slight nod, but still I don't look at him.

"I'm going to prove to you that we have something real here. Just try and let me, okay?"

Somehow I find the strength to pull back and look at him. "Okay," I whisper, feeling very small. "I'll stop trying to hate you and pretending I don't like you."

His answering smile makes the potential for heartbreak seem worth it, at least for this one moment.

I stop trying to hate Jackson, stop pretending I don't enjoy him, but nothing else changes and I avoid the talk I promised him at all costs.

* * *

**I know it wasn't totally E and B focused, but I feel like their story was pretty much told. I was struggling to write something from their POV since last September, but it just wasn't happening.**

**Thank you so much for reading.**

**Next and last chapter will be up shortly!**


	26. Epilogue: All My Children II

**THIS IS THE SAME CHAPTER POSTED ON UNDER THESE LIGHTS. NO NEED TO READ THIS IF YOU'VE ALREADY READ THAT.**

**Aw, you guys liked it! Thanks so much for reading! **

**This one is a bit silly, but I just had a grand old time writing it. Hope you enjoy it! For those of you who are enjoying the gown up kids, you'll like this one. Those of you who want more Edward and Bella, I suggest you check out my most recent fic, _By Way of Sorrow_. It's nearly done. **

**Anyway, love you guys. This is the end. It's been really great.**

**Donna is the best.**

**I don't own.**

* * *

I stare at the swanky downtown club and the accompanying sign that declares this venue closed for a private New Year's party.

"Why did we let Sam plan the evening?" I ask, huddling in my coat in defense to the wind as we inch forward in line. "Do you see that? Everyone in this line has legit invitations."

"They are even embossed," Heidi observes, leaning down to better stare at the invite held by the guy in front of us. She gets obnoxiously close to him and then makes the bedroom eyes at him when he looks at her like she's a crazy person.

"Oh ye of little faith," says Sam, dragging his attention away from the rest of our group to defend his honor. "Looky this."

He magics an invitation out of his, coat and Heidi and I regard it with awe.

"It's glorious," Heidi whispers worshipfully.

I snort and snag the thing from Sam, inspecting the piece of paper that will supposedly get us in to this swanky ass affair.

"How?" I ask when I decide it is indeed not a fake.

"Megan is banging the dude who owns this place," he explains, referring to his older sister. "Her sluttiness has its perks."

I smack the back of his head. "Don't you say that word, bucko."

He rolls his eyes in response. Heidi links her arm through mine, and we take a step closer to the doors.

* * *

Inside is rather expected. It could be any other packed club on New Year's Eve, although the patrons do seem a bit more richly dressed then my pack of college friends are used to. My slinky black dress blends right in, but I do kinda wish I bothered to do something with my messy bronze hair.

We do shots. A guy at the bar buys me a drink. I pawn him off on Heidi and wonder what Jackson is up to tonight. I didn't ask, even though I wanted to, and he offered no information on his plans.

"You're pouty," Sam says, pushing another whiskey into my hand and poking at my bottom lip. "Why are you pouty?"

"I'm not pouty."

"Dude, you are in full on pout mode. Is this about your baseball player?" he asks, frowning. I give him a sympathetic smile because as friendly as we are these days, I totally get weirded out when he dates, too.

"He's just a family friend. We went home together for the holiday so I just saw more than enough of him, thank you very much," I insist.

"Brought him back to meet the folks, huh? You haven't done that with anyone since me," he replies.

"They're his godparents, you fool," I deadpan.

"Drink your whiskey."

More shots are consumed. There is a giant clock on the wall that ticks down the seconds until midnight, but for me it is just marking time until I can sneak out and drunk dial Jax, demanding he meet me back at his place to ring in the New Year proper.

Heidi and Sam drag me to the dance floor. I half-heartedly shake my hips and sip my drink, eyes darting to the clock every few seconds.

And then there are hands groping my hips. I swirl around to maybe sock this asshole right in the nose, stumbling slightly in my haste to get the creeper to back off, but the words get caught in my throat when I have to look up to see familiar blue eyes and all American good looks.

"You!" I say, not realizing I was this drunk until just now. Jackson grins and takes a sip of my drink as his arms come around my waist, nimble fingers resting at the small of my back.

"Me," he replies, talking in my ear to be heard over the throbbing dance music. "I've seen you dance, Nessie Cullen, and I must say this is a piss poor showing. You don't appear to even be trying."

My hand tightens on the collar of his button up, tugging until he leans down so I can whisper in his ear. Taking his words to heart, I dance and move against him.

"I ain't had the proper partner until just this minute," I tell him, laying the Texas on thick.

"And suddenly this night just got so much better," he replies, fingers tightening in the fabric at the small of my back. "I've been staring at that clock for the last hour, just waiting till midnight so I could go home and wait for you to stumble in."

My answering laugh is somewhat hysterical. "Sorry for ruining all your plans," I manage.

"You, my sweet," he yells in my ear, continuing to dance with me, "have ruined absolutely nothing for me. Well, except a few goodnights sleep."

Jackson finishes my drink and then dances us over to a table where he sets down my empty glass. He takes my newly freed hand and I can't stop laughing as he actually two steps us to the horribly ill-fitting music, amongst the masses of writhing, grinding bodies.

Sam and Heidi find me again. Sam takes my hand, trying to pull me away from a confused and slightly amused Jax. When we go out dancing like this Sam often saves me from guys when I'm done dancing with them. I guess I can't blame him for misinterpreting the scene now.

"Wait!" Sam yells. I can't hear the words but I can make out the way his mouth moves. I lean over and let him speak in my ear. "I know this guy. That's Jackson Whitlock. He's the rooky pitcher that pretty much carried the Rockies last season."

I sigh heavily, going back into Jackson's arms.

Sam freaks out some more while Heidi just looks on in drunken confusion. I gesture towards the balcony where people go outside to cool down and smoke up. We stop at the bar on the way for another round.

"You sneaky little bitch," Sam says the moment we get into the cool night air. Jackson has me pressed into his side and I can feel the tension in his body in reaction to Sam's words, despite the jovial tone.

"You figured it out?" I ask, smiling ruefully.

"Some family friend my ass," Sam continues. "This is Jackson Whitlock. He's kinda a big deal around here."

"I am aware."

"He can totally get us tickets next season!"

"Me, you mean. He probably is disinclined to give you anything being as you just called his best friend a bitch."

I ignore Jackson's wince, a negative reaction to the term _friend_ no doubt.

"It was a compliment!" Sam says, defending himself. "I am impressed you managed to keep this from us for so long. And this is the guy who took your virginity and snuck out on you in the middle of the night to actually fly to a different state."

"Samuel!" I shriek as Jax looks at his shoes.

"Dude doesn't exactly have the moral high ground, is all I'm saying. Shit. Relax," he crosses his arms over his chest. Standing next to Jax he looks so short and so young.

"I thought this meeting your fuck buddy thing would be more fun," Heidi muses.

Jackson lets out a strangled laugh. He hasn't said a word to my friends. It's very disconcerting because he is Mr. Charisma typically. I take a deep breath and decide to start over.

"Jax," I say. "These are my roommates, Heidi and Sam. Please excuse their idiocy. They are drunken lunatics."

Sam looks like he's going to protest, but Heidi slaps a hand over his mouth. "Harsh but fair."

"Roommates," I continue, determined to do this thing right now that I'm being forced to do it at all. "This is my… Jackson."

I don't have a title for him. My Jackson is horribly fitting, I'm afraid.

Things get better. Sam forgives Jackson for being more important in my life. Jackson forgives Sam for calling me a bitch. Heidi entertains us all. Sam pretty much wets himself when Jax introduces us to some buddies of his from the Rockies. There is even a Denver Nugget or two thrown in there.

They all know who I am and I believe them when they say Jax never stops talking about me.

It's a good night but we still leave just after midnight, just after I let him kiss me senseless in front of all my friends and his too.

The walk to his apartment should take us maybe thirteen minutes, but tonight it feels like it lasts years.

Part of the delay could be our need to be all over each other. Every few steps I feel the need to shove him into a building, kissing him until he forgets his own name.

* * *

Sitting at the breakfast bar in nothing but Jackson's button up and a pair of clean black panties I found in the drawer I refuse to call mine, I nibble on a piece of extra crispy bacon and watch Jax scramble eggs.

Shirtless breakfast cooking seems totally ill advised, but he knows just what the sculpted planes of his back and chest do to me. This is probably some manipulation to get me to spend yet another day here in his fancy high rise apartment.

Something changed on New Year's – maybe it was him meeting my friends, maybe it was me meeting his teammates – and I've spent every night since here with him. Now I only have three days left until classes start up again. I'll have to start sleeping alone and my dismay over this fact is disturbing. I'm far too dependent on him.

We should probably have that stupid conversation of his, damn it.

I continue to nibble and enjoy the view.

Every few minutes Jax throws me a grin over his bare shoulder. The look on his face makes me all blushy.

He loads two plates with fluffy eggs and fried potatoes before he slides into the stool next to me. As usual, he's given me way more than I can reasonably stuff into my stomach. As usual, he'll devour my leftovers.

I reach for the fork in his hand and pout when he holds it out of my reach.

"Pay the toll," he says like the complete dork he is. Rolling my eyes at his absurdity, I lean over to give him a smacking kiss. "Yum," he says, handing me my fork. "Bacony."

"Gross," I say, digging into the feast lain out before me.

"I'll be the judge of that, thank you," he replies primly.

"This is so good," I tell him through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

"Talk about gross."

I'm too busy eating to respond to his insults.

We chow down in silence. There are definitely perks to dating one's lifetime best friend, one being the easy silences. Even after everything that went down four years ago, things have never been awkward between us. I don't worry about messy hair or morning breath. This boy has seen me at my absolute worst and my most embarrassing. He knows my every secret, lived through the every drama of my life.

We've taken baths together, for goodness sakes, so when he makes me blush now by staring at my legs with a concentration he usually reserves for the pitcher's mound, it's all about pleasure and not about embarrassment at all.

I push my leftovers to Jax when I can't manage to fit another bite in my mouth and get up to do the dishes. Already we have a routine. He cooks and I clean.

"So what's your plan for the day?" he asks as I scrub. "You close at the coffee shop, right?"

"Yeah, I don't go in until six."

"And when do you get off?"

"Not until midnight." Damn it's going to be a long one. Jackson kept me up way too late last night.

"I'll pick you up," he declares.

"It's two blocks from my house," I reply. "I think I can manage."

"Are you going to your house?"

I turn from the sink to stare at him while I have an internal debate. I should go home. I haven't seen my friends in days. I'm nearly out of clean clothes, but I really don't want to go without him.

"Fine," I say with a frustrated growl. "I'll stay here tonight but I have to go home tomorrow. "

"We can sleep there tonight, if you prefer," Jax suggests. He is trying so hard to be casual, but I haven't let him through my front door yet and I can hear a tremor in his voice.

As trivial as it seems compared to all the sex we've been having since last summer, letting him spend the night means something.

Taking a moment to collect myself, I finish loading the dishwasher slowly, methodically.

I want so badly to just blindly throw my whole heart into loving him again, but the naive little girl that fell for him all those years ago disappeared the moment he snuck off in the middle of the night.

Sometimes he makes me feel like her and it terrifies me. I need to go into this thing with extremely cautious optimism. Although I believe him when he talks of regret and promises not to hurt me, he could still break my fragile heart all over again without even meaning to.

But then I glance at him, sitting there on that stool, looking so beautiful and familiar and so hopeful.

Aw, fuck it.

"Okay," I say with a shrug. "You'll pick me up and we'll sleep at my place."

I enjoy his dumbstruck joy. It is not often Jax is struck speechless.

* * *

Jackson is trying to badger me into running with him to the gym despite the freezing weather, when my open laptop starts beeping.

"What's that?" asks Jax.

"Anthony is trying to Skype with me."

"Cool," he says, leaning back on the couch. I stare at him pointedly until he gets the hint and stands.

"I'm going to change for our run," Jackson says with a heavy sigh. I don't answer my brother's call until Jackson's bedroom door shuts behind his sexy ass.

"Yo," I say when my little brother's face fills up my screen. For whatever reason, he appears to be shirtless. An orange knit beanie covers his dark hair and pink sunglasses shaped like stars cover his green eyes. Anthony is such a kook. People don't often know what to make of my eccentric football star little brother.

"Took you long enough," he mutters.

"Are you at home?" I ask, surprised. After winning their bowl game earlier in the week, I thought he'd want to stick around for all the subsequent parties.

"Yeah man," he replies, swiveling around in his desk chair. "It was a long season and I'm in the mood to be pampered."

"She's doing your laundry and cookin' your favorite meals."

"You know it."

"Fried chicken?"

"Two nights in a row."

We air high five.

"Where are you?" he asks, studying the view out Jackson's living room windows that provide my backdrop.

"Home," I lie.

"Liar," he says.

"At the coffee shop?" I try again.

"Van…"

"Why are you callin'?" I ask, changing the subject. "Not that it's not lovely but we just saw each other like ten seconds ago."

"You're at Jackson's, ain't ya?" he says, not buying it.

I wish I could see his stupid eyes. "How do you know that?" I demand, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You don't have a monopoly on communicating with our very favorite pitcher," he says. "We've video chatted. Although I've heard that you currently do have that monopoly on his penis."

I blink at Anthony. It takes me several long seconds for me to process just what he's saying.

"What?" I shriek, jumping slightly. My computer almost tumbles off my lap and onto the ground, but I catch it at the last moment. When I look at the screen again, I'm met with an image of my brother laughing his ass off. "Why would you say _that_?"

"Hold up," Anthony says, getting to his feet and disappearing from view. I protest with great volume until he returns with Masen in tow.

"Oh no," I say, shaking my head as they both take seats at Anthony's desk. "I am so not having this conversation with the baby of the family. I am so not having this conversation at all."

Except I've gotta know whatever he knows.

"Hey," protests the baby of the family.

"He's sixteen," Anthony says. "And he has way more sex than I do."

I scream and cover my ears. What in the hell is happening here? We've entered the world of the surreal, and if I wasn't so desperate to know whatever it is they know, I'd slam my laptop shut and pretend this never happened.

"This is not happening," I chant. "This is so not happening."

They stare at me until I collect myself.

"Okay," I manage, sounding somewhat normal. "What do you two morons know?"

"That you and our godbrother are doing it," Masen says.

I shriek again.

"In fairness to Nessie, we only know they've done it once," Anthony says, confusing me totally. How is it possible they know anything at all? "Actually they could've not done it, I guess. But it seems damn unlikely."

"Is godbrother a thing?" asks Masen.

"No," Anthony replies. "Don't say that. It makes it creepy."

I do nothing but stare at them in shock as they have this bizarre little argument.

"It's already creepy. He's family!"

"Yeah, but there's no blood there. This seems like the natural progression of their ever evolving relationship."

Mase and I gape at the middle child.

"What?" Anthony continues as if we're the weird ones for not having any idea what he's talking about. "Uncle Jasper loves to tell that story of how Jax decided to marry Ness when they were like toddlers."

"Do not even go there," I scream. I'm doing a lot of screaming.

Both boys laugh at my discomfort and I collect myself once more.

"I don't even know what you're talking about," I say, fooling no one. "Jackson and I are friends, like we've always been."

"Except those years when you hated him," Anthony reminds me.

"You noticed?" I ask, wincing.

"You're not as sneaky as you think you are," Mase says. They are in gang up on me mode. I hate gang up on me mode.

"Okay," I say, at my wits end. "Just tell me what you think you know."

"Send her the link," Masen says, doing some sort of weird Darth Vader impression. Anthony grins and sends me said link.

With great trepidation, I click on it, and am sent to a fan site devoted to Jackson. Totally confused, a few seconds of scrolling makes all clear.

"Jackson!" I scream, totally panicked. My voice is so piercing both my brothers wince at the sound. "Jackson Alexander Whitlock! Get your scrawny ass out—"

"What?" he yells back, slamming out of the bedroom in nothing but a pair of athletic shorts. He glances around wildly, prepared to deal with a robber or something. Beyond words, I can do nothing but wave him over and gesture at the laptop.

"Hey, guys," Jackson says, greeting the boys as he takes a seat next to me. "No shirt?" he continues when he takes in Anthony's similar lack of attire.

"Nice," replies Anthony.

They pretend to fist bump.

About to completely freak out, I minimize my brothers and pull up the fan site.

"Did you minimize us?" demands Masen.

"Dude," says Anthony. "Give them a minute."

I would mute them too, but the pictures are making my hands shake. Unable to look anymore, I stare at Jax, trying to gauge his reaction. His eyes go wide and his mouth pops open in shock, but then the son of a bitch actually smirks. Smirks!

"Damn," Jackson says. "We look hot."

With a groan of pure misery, I flip face first into the couch.

"This is horrifying, Jackson," I mumble into the cushions. "There are pictures of us all over each other on the internet!"

There are a whole slew of them, taken on New Year's Eve as we were leaving that club. A couple is a little bit cute of us smiling at each other, but mostly they are downright pornographic.

"Yeah," he agrees, sounding properly shocked now. "This is fucking surreal."

"Dude, you're totally groping my sister's ass in this one!" yells a minimized Masen.

"Oh my God," I mutter.

"So what are your intentions with big sister Van?" Anthony asks, sounding shockingly stern. Dad is so ridiculous, the boys have never really felt the need to do the whole over protective brother thing. Until now, apparently.

"Don't answer that, Jax!" I insist.

"I'm crazy about her," Jackson replies.

More groaning sounds come from me as my brothers make sounds of approval.

"Where did you find these?" asks Jackson. His voice is fluctuating between horror and awe. I'm sure a little part of him is stoked to have such evidence of his adoring public.

"Nicole Cheney met Jax a couple times growing up and has apparently fallen in love with him since Jax got all famous and shit," Masen explains. "She follows this sight and told Kimmy who told me."

I groan again.

"I thought I was only sort of famous here in Denver," muses Jackson.

"And in Dillon. You're super famous in Dillon," points out Anthony.

"Dad is gonna kill you," Masen says with cruel glee. "I hope I get to watch!"

"Masen!" Jax, Anthony, and I all reprimand at once.

"Are y'all lookin' at porn?"

My mother's voice has me scrambling to sit up. Everyone seems too stunned to speak for a long moment and then my mom is in the shot, leaning between my two brothers to get a closer look at the screen.

"Come on, Ma," Anthony says, leaning back in his chair and trying to look casual. "No way."

"Oh, it's just Jackson and Nessie." All my inner organs disappear as I stare at her familiar, inquisitive face. "Hi, Jackson and Nessie. My dear boy, where is your shirt? Are you sittin' there talking to my children in the nude, young man?"

I breath again as it becomes obvious that my sneaky little brothers have minimized the damned fan site. We're safe.

"Shorts, Bella," Jax explains, standing to demonstrate. "We're about to go on a run."

"No, we are so totally not. It is freezin'. Go put on a damn shirt," I mutter, having a very hard time trying to sound normal.

"What are my favorite children talkin' about?"

"Jackson being famous," Anthony supplies. Not totally lying.

"Now don't you let that get to your head," Mom lectures. "You best be keeping it humble."

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

"What do we do?" I ask as he drives me to work after our jog and me freaking out a whole lot.

"We tell your parents we are dating," he says. "And then we tell my parents we're dating."

"We're not dating," I say. This is totally frustrating. We've been having this conversation incessantly in the last few hours since my brothers ruined my stupid life.

"Okay. Then we should start dating," he says, predictably. "Then tell your parents. Then tell my parents."

I slouch down low in my seat, pulling the hood of my sweatshirt down over my head to cover the top half of my face.

"Ness," he says, reaching out to hold my hand. "They are going to find out. This is Dillon we are talking about. Nothing stays secret long."

I grumble some more and hold his hand a little tighter.

"I am sorry this happened," he murmurs.

"It's not your fault."

"Guess this is going to be an adjustment, huh?"

"Yup."

"Nessie, it's time to figure this out. I love you, I want you, and I'll do whatever you need to convince you, but you've got to talk to me." He speaks so quietly and so earnestly. It is far removed from his typical jovial self, and suddenly I feel so guilty. He's braved it well, but dealing with all my crazy these last few months has worn on him. I haven't given him a little scrap of anything, but he's been unwavering.

Peeking out from my hoodie, I let my head flop against the headrest and turn to look at him. The tension in his jaw is all my fault and I reach out to soothe him instinctively.

"I know. I'm just so scared, Jackson," I whisper.

He glances quickly at me, frowning again. This is horrible timing and he must once more focus on the road.

"Because I fucked up so badly last time." His mutter is full of self-loathing and I can't stand it. "You think I'm going to freak out on you again."

"Well—"

"Fuck, I was scared too," he says, once more sounding nothing like himself. "You were so fucking young and I'd been trying not to notice how you looked at me for years. We were fucking perfect together, but I just couldn't see any possible way that it could work. You were fucking seventeen! And we're practically family. And your dad would've killed me because you were fucking seventeen, but none of that prevented me from loving you because I really loved you, even then. Loved you forever, even when it was fucking creepy and the three years between us meant so much. It scared me how much I loved you and how young you were and how impossible it all seemed so I did the worst possible thing. I left you and I've regretted it every moment since my plane took off four years ago."

His driving gets erratic. I freak out a little, a tear or two collecting in the corners of my eyes.

"Jax—" I attempt to calm him but then he's slamming on the brakes as he parks on the street in front of my place of employment and talking over me.

"I'm a fucking idiot. The lowest of the low and fuck, how I missed you. I didn't even realize how much I loved you, how you were a part of me, until you cut me totally out of your life. I deserved every second of the misery, but fuck, how I missed you. There wasn't a moment I felt whole until I moved here and you let me close again."

"Jax!" I shout, interrupting his ranting. "I know, honey. I know. That's not what I meant. I know you're not just gonna up and leave me again. Mostly. It's just…"

I trail off, looking at my place of work and then the clock. I still have a few minutes until my shift and Jackson just looks so troubled.

"It's just what, Vanessa?"

"I'm terrified because if we do this, it has to be for real," I confess. The leaving me four years ago thing is upsetting, but I understand why he did it. Now that I'm speaking, I think this is the real reason I've been trying to keep him at arm's length for the last six months. "The stakes are so high. It's you and me. _You_ and _me_. This is so big. We're in forever kinda territory here, and it terrifies me."

His expression softens and he gives me a hint of a smile. Leaning across the gearshift, he cradles my jaw. "The best things are always a little scary, Ness."

I smile back. "You think we're the best thing?"

"Oh, without a doubt. We're inevitably, baby."

I give him a lingering kiss before I really have to go to work.

* * *

"Well, the whole lot of them will be here for opening day," I say to Jackson as I sort through the mail on the kitchen table. Classes started back up early this week, but Jax still has another month before the pitchers report for spring training so he's been around plenty.

"You really think that we can keep this a secret until April?" he asks, leaning against my kitchen counter.

"Yeah, Ness," puts in Heidi. "Those pictures are basically porn. Do you really want them to find out that way?"

"I don't want them to find out period," I grumble.

"Dude, he's standing right there," Heidi whisper yells. "Do you want him to think you're ashamed of him? You really don't know anything about boys, do you?"

I roll my eyes. Jackson snorts. "She's not ashamed of me," he explains. "She's scared her dad will kill me."

"You can't be serious," Heidi says. "That's a serious thing?"

"Well, maybe not kill. But it's gonna be bad," I say.

"Why? Isn't he your godfather? Shouldn't he be happy that you guys are together?" Heidi continues.

"Eventually he'll get there," Jackson assures her. "But… well, it might take a while. He's going to be more pissed if we don't tell him."

"He's absurdly overprotective," I say listing my father's faults on my fingers. "He thinks I'm still a little girl. He considers Jackson one of his sons so we're getting into some seriously creepy territory there. He's certifiably nuts. Should I go on?"

Heidi laughs. "No, it's all coming back to me. He made Sam piss his pants the first time you introduced them, right?"

Jackson grumbles under his breath, hating all things Sam. It's understandable, I suppose, but there really is nothing left there besides an oddly antagonistic friendship.

"It's going to be so bad," I say, covering my face with her hands.

"Worth it, babe," Jackson reminds me.

"Well, I'll see you two losers later," Heidi says, exiting the kitchen with flourish. "Unlike you old married people, I have a date."

The word marriage makes me shiver violently in horror, but Jackson manages to say goodbye to my roommate.

"What do you want to do tonight?" he asks as I turn back to the mail. "Stay in?"

"Yeah, whatever. Look at this. It's from your mom," I say, nodding at the thin cardboard package that I find at the bottom of a stack of mail.

"And it's addressed to who?" he asks, moving to look at the item I hold in my hands.

"Me, you fool," I snap. "Whose house are we in?"

"Right. Open it."

I do as he says, pulling a framed picture out of the box.

"Oh," I say breathlessly, staring down at the oil painting in her hands.

"Yeah," Jackson murmurs.

It appears to be the painted version of the sketches she did of us this Christmas. We were all folded up together in an arm chair by the fire back home. Alice has captured something here I wasn't even really sure existed until the last couple days. It is more realistic than her usual art, but still rather impressionistic with its bright color and thick brush strokes.

To Alice, we are one entity.

"Wow," Jax says. "Look at us."

"It's beautiful," I whisper. But then I look at it a little longer and freak out. "Did you tell her? How does she know?"

"Relax," he replies. "You know my mom. She just knows things. This is probably something she's been anticipating for years."

I let out a huffing breath, feeling all jittery inside.

"It looks like I like you in this picture," I mutter, gently placing it on the kitchen table. It really is so very pretty.

"You do like me," Jackson declares, arms snaking around my waist. I turn to face him, grinning.

"Always have," I admit, returning his embrace.

"It's good to hear you say that."

"I know. I'm sorry I've been so crazy about this," I say, feeling bad for the ridiculous way I've been treating him since he moved out here.

"It was a long six months," he agrees. "But I get your hesitation. I really do, Ness."

I let my forehead rest against his chest for a moment before looking back up at him again. "Do you really think we're inevitable?" I ask, feeling irrationally shy.

"Oh yeah," he replies, reaching up to wipe away my frown with the pad of his thumb. "Always have been. Even when it was creepy."

"Creepy?"

"Like when I was seventeen and you turned into a woman over night with the boobs and the lips and the hair." He gives a bronze lock a little tug. "One Christmas you're a kid and the next summer I'm in Dillon you were so totally not. I was such an asshole for noticing."

I grin because Jackson still seems genuinely disturbed by his attraction to fourteen year old Ness.

"Aw, you liked my little mosquito bites."

"I told you it was creepy." He actually shivers.

"I ain't fourteen anymore," I remind him, rolling my hips forward against him. He groans and lowers his lips to mine.

"Thank God for that," he mutters. "About damn time."

My giggle is swallowed up by his mouth. He walks me backwards into the fridge, nibbling on my lips as he cradles my face. I giggle again because I am just so happy to finally be here with him.

"You're cute," he says, pinning me to the fridge with that long, lean frame of his.

"I don't want to be cute." When I pout he bites my button lip, eliciting yet another giggle from me. "I want to be sexy."

Jax is the laughing one now. Before he can collect himself, a knock on the front door interrupts his little fit.

"Hold that thought," I say as I slip around him. He grumbles as he follows. "It's probably just Sam. He always is forgetting his key," I explain over my shoulder.

"Idiot," Jax mutters. "I like watching you walk in front of me."

"Creepy," I reply, throwing open the front door.

The playful smile falls right off my face when I take in Edward Cullen on my doorstep, in the flesh. I gape at him, totally stunned. He stares down at me, arms crossed over his chest, before his gaze lands on Jax, frozen behind me in the hall.

Slowly, my dad raises an accusatory finger, stabbing the air in Jackson's general direction.

"_You_," says my father, his voice low and dangerous and totally terrifyin'.

I swallow, bracing myself for the coming horror. Dad lunges forward and I act on pure instinct, slamming his face and throwing the lock.

"Vanessa!" yells Jax. "What the hell?"

"He was going to attack you!" I squeak.

"Are you shitting me?" he asks, apparently shocked by my behavior. He rushes forward. "Edward wouldn't attack me. Have you ever seen him attack anyone?"

"Well, no," I admit. "But there are stories from his misbegotten youth."

Jackson stares at me as if I've totally lost my mind. I struggle to comprehend just what's happening here.

"Open the door, Vanessa," Jackson commands.

"I don't want to," I mutter, feeling and acting like I'm about eight years old.

"Ness, come on. You're being irrational. Things may be a little tense at first, but it will be fine. They will be happy for us," he assures me, rubbing my shoulder.

"I just slammed the door in my father's face," I say in a sort of daze.

"You sure did, baby."

"I just slammed the door in my father's face!" I squeak and cover my mouth with my palms, horrified by my own actions. "What is wrong with me? Why did I do it?"

"Because you're a little crazy and freaking out," Jax says, still rubbing my shoulder. 'The good thing here is that you can always open the door."

With a heavy sigh, I do as he says.

The scene before me is chaotic and a bit difficult to understand.

Dad stands hunched over, hands on his knees. Mom holds a bloodied scarf to his nose. Alice – who is apparently here – appears to be pacing in front of my parents, arms flailing as she yells at Dad. This leaves Jasper trapped in the street unable to get over the curb by his self. He's just shaking his head a lot.

Jackson joins me in my silent gaping for a long moment. I lean into his side as we absorb all the crazy that is our family.

"Nessie!" my mom says, using her teacher voice that has everyone immediately quieting. "Do you have something to tell us?"

"I believe you already know," I reply, smiling ruefully.

* * *

"Nessie, eat," Mom instructs at breakfast the next morning. I push my delicious diner eggs on my plate, studying Dad's bruised and slightly swollen nose. I feel really awful about that.

Dad hasn't said a word since I picked them up at their hotel this morning. Alice and Mom managed to convince Dad to just go to the hotel and deal with all this in the morning.

Last night I was relieved. Now I wish we'd just gotten it over with.

"How's your nose?" I ask. Dad just grunts and shrugs. Mom sighs.

"Are you alright?" she asks me. "You don't look so hot."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired. Didn't sleep much last night," I reply.

Dad looks up from his omelet to scowl at me. My eyes go wide when I realize just what that sounded like.

"Because I was worried about your nose, Dad! I'm really so sorry," I say in a rush. My eyes tear and Dad's expression softens.

"I'm okay, Ness. I know you didn't mean it. We surprised you," he mutters. I relax slightly.

"Yeah, so what are you guys doing here?" I ask. And that has Dad scowling into his eggs again.

"You know what," he mumbles. Mom sighs again and rubs his back.

"Your father thought it would be a wise idea to get on a plane the moment we saw some pictures on the internet," Mom explains. "I called Alice and they jumped at the chance to visit."

"You couldn't have let me know with like, a phone call?" I ask, annoyed.

"Oh, like you let us know about your new relationship with our godson?" Dad drawls.

"Good point," I concede. I think about those damn pictures and bury my face in my hands. "I can't believe you saw those."

"Well you shouldn't be surprised," Mom says as gently as possible. "We work at the school and it started with the kids, but pretty much everyone's seen them now."

"Have they damned me to hell yet?" I ask. Mom winces. I wonder if she's remembering her own time as the scarlet woman of Dillon high. The rents don't talk about that sketchy time when they got together, but I've heard all the stories, so I know it must've sucked.

My mom and Jackson's dad is literally the most disgusting thing I've ever even heard of.

"Most people think it's cute," Mom says. I don't totally believe her because Dad growls again, but I really don't care what the good people of Dillon think, with the exception of the two seated across the booth from me.

"I'm sorry you had to find out that way," I murmur, feeling ashamed all over again. My parents have done so much for me and this feels like a betrayal.

"As you should be," Dad says his voice icy. He leans back in the booth, crossing his arms over his chest.

"When did all this start?" Mom asks, playing the good cop in this little interrogation drama.

"Last July," I admit.

Dad slams a fist on the tabletop. It has me jumping right along with the silverware. "I knew something was up at Christmas. She was way too nice to him," Dad grumbles, turning to Mom.

"Hush," Mom says, rolling her eyes. "This is the reason she didn't want to tell us, you know." Dad sighs and relaxes slightly as Mom turns back to me. "So you started dating last June?"

"Uh, yeah! Dating. Yes. We were dating a lot," I stutter, sounding like an idiot. Mom purses her lips so I know she's on to me, but Dad thankfully remains oblivious.

"Bout damn time," he mutters. I blink at him in shock.

"Pardon?" I manage when my lips are once again capable of movement.

"You've been making googly eyes at each other for years. Bout damn time," he repeats.

"So you're not mad?" I ask, beyond totally confused.

"Of course I'm mad," he snaps. "I'm furious. Damn fools, the pair of you."

I glance at Mom for a translation because she is fluent in Edward Cullen.

"He's mad that you didn't tell us," she explains. Dad nods as if this should've been obvious.

"Damn," I shout, totally annoyed with myself for all the unnecessary drama I've caused in the last few months. I slump back against the booth in defeat. "Jackson was right. I hate it when Jackson is right."

Mom laughs. Dad cracks a smile.

"You're seriously okay with this?" I ask, smiling slightly.

"Ness," Dad says with a sigh. "We accepted long ago that you were half of a whole. You've always been way close, even with him only in Dillon for the summer. We've talked about this for years."

He shocked the shit outta me with his insight.

"I thought it was a joke," I mutter, blushing slightly.

"If only," Dad replies with a snort.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Mom asks quietly, making me realize I hurt her too. With the exception of Jax, I've always told her everything.

"Well," I say, feeling extremely uncomfortable but determined to tell as much as the truth as I can. "It's weird, you know? He is family, practically your son!"

Dad pulls a face but Mom just nods, encouraging me to continue.

"And I wasn't sure. I mean, there is no way to just casually date Jax and being so serious freaked me out and I was still so mad at him in the beginning—"

"Mad?" Dad asks, interrupting my ranting. Mom gives me a knowing look as if she understands exactly what happened. It's very Alice of her.

"Um… That summer before my senior year of high school I had such a crush on him and we kissed." Dad's growls are once more ignored. "That's why he left town early because he knew it wasn't right. I was only seventeen so it was sketchy."

"And illegal," Dad points out.

"But it broke my heart," I continue. "I get it now, though. The timing was wrong. I was too young. He knew we'd have a long story and he knew I needed to get out of Dillon and strike out on my own first."

"Aw, that's beautiful," says Mom, actually tearing up. "They have a long love story."

"Awesome," says Dad through a clenched jaw. His grim expression makes me giggle. "Just don't get married until you graduate. Promise me that."

I nod because that is really not something he needs to worry about any time soon.

"Where have I heard this before?" Mom asks with a laugh.

"Worked out, didn't it?" Dad replies grinning.

And they've totally lost me so I make gaggling sounds when they kiss, just to be obnoxious.

"He shoulda come to me and told me like a man," Dad declares, pouting slightly.

"This isn't the freaking 19th century, Dad," I say with a huff. "He didn't need your permission to court me. Although, to be fair, he wanted to talk to you over break but I wouldn't let him. I still wasn't sure."

Dad looks like he feels slightly better.

"Are you now?" Mom asks. "Are you sure?"

I beam at her, thrilled to finally, finally have an answer. "Yes," I say. "I'm sure. I love him, like, a lot. Way more than I ever even knew was possible."

Mom cries. Dad smiles slightly.

"Alright then," he says, getting up and coming to my side of the booth. I accept his offered hand, letting him pull me up out of my seat and into a bear hug. "Was that so hard?" he murmurs as I squeeze him with all of my meager strength.

"Kinda," I reply, the word muffled because my face is pressed into his chest. "Was it really worth a plane ride?"

"You bet your ass," Dad replies, voice gruff. "I love you, kid."

I pull away to grin at him and squeeze Mom's hand when she reaches out for me. "Yes we do," she says.

"I love you guys, too," I reply. "Like, a lot."

* * *

"Jackson decided he wanted a marriage of his own the day I married his mama," Jasper says the words, beginning a story I've been hearing for as long as I can remember.

Jackson and I give the expected groaning and grumbling, but this story sounds different to me now. What was once childhood embarrassment; is now proof of what Jax has been telling me for months.

We're inevitable.

"And even then," Jasper continues, grinning over and Jax and I where we are seated in an oversized chair in Jackson's living room, our position reminiscent of the painting Alice sent me a few days ago. "Five year old Jax only had one lady in mind."

"Dad," Jackson groans. I am amused to see him actually blushing. "Stop, Seriously, just stop."

"Listen to the boy," says my father. I grin at the camaraderie. They went off and had some heart to heart yesterday and now their relationship seems just as strong as it always was.

Our parents start bickering and I lean over to kiss Jackson's cheek.

"They're older than we were," says Mom, catching my attention. "When Edward and I got together we were basically babies."

"By the time we were Nessie's age we already had a kid," Jasper says.

"Oops," says Alice, shrugging.

"Thanks, Mom," replies Jax.

"When we were Jackson's age we had a kid, too," my mom muses.

"Yeah, you guys are slacking," Alice says with a chuckle. "Get on it!"

"Alice!" screams Dad.

"Remember how cute they were," she coos in response.

And then the four of them are off, remembering what it was like to be a young parent with us as young kids.

I zone out, choosing instead to look at Jax. He's happier than I've ever seen him and the feeling is definitely mutual. I'm over come with a feeling of absolute rightness. It's as if we were all somehow meant to be just as we are, right here together.

When I think of all the little decisions and events that lead us here, that ultimately brought around the possibility of Jax and I, this moment seems that much more miraculous.

Stretching back almost thirty years, if Gramps never cheated on Renee, my mom might've never figured out that my dad was always right there, staring her in the face. Just like that, Jackson and I might not even exist.

Our parents made a thousand little decisions that let us get here. Jackson and I made a thousand more. But I'm thankful for the way it's turning out.

So very, very thankful.

* * *

**Thank you, thank you, thank you!**


End file.
